


Champion, Reflected

by ArwynAtreides



Series: Champion Cycle [4]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Healing, Personal Growth, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, dream journey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 04:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17697296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwynAtreides/pseuds/ArwynAtreides
Summary: Fire, loss, recovery, and growth. Join Maximillian Pegasus as he fights to save his family from the monster they saw dead.Pegasus must walk through the minds and dreams of those around him and grapple with what he discovers. Uncovering gruesome histories, battling a blood drenched hero, and reliving his own appalling torture but these may be little more than prelude to traversing the unknowable depths of the mind of a broken boy who shares his face with the monster.They say "What doesn't break you makes your stronger" but our family of Champions must ask "Can one become stronger from being broken?"





	1. Prologue - Life and the Lifeless

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fourth story in the Champion Cycle. Please at least read “Champion - Director’s Cut” and “Champion, Quieted” in order to understand the events of this story. …or don’t, who knows what kind of unique experience you might enjoy!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this trip into the world of Champion!

Life.

Regrets.

Hopes.

When we grow older, we sometimes wonder and even worry that the things which preoccupied the mind of our younger selves might be erased. Lost to time. Forgotten on the journey of growing up. There are oftentimes things that we may wish were erased. But still they remain.

Our mind finds a way to reframe it all.

A Hope takes on a new color and in turn it colors how we see things. 

A Regret stays stuck to our mind and brings about thoughts of loss but also… possibilities.

More importantly, though, one can find Life. More of an idea and a state of mind than just a biological state of being.

Let it be known: a beating heart is only a physical symptom of Life. It is the _will_ to keep living which _truly_ embodies Life.

Even a creature which once may have lost that will to live may, remarkably, discover Life within itself after the loss of its beating heart. 

Alas, the truth is: Life is a bittersweet thing. Highlighting the joys and pain of Hope and Regret. The price for its gifts quickly paid but often only slowly rewarded. But when one finds themselves with eternity stretched out before them, they can choose to cultivate the patience necessary for them to reap _all_ the gifts that Life may have in store for them.

 ~

Part of the world was still covered with the blanket of night but a corner was beginning to be peeled back. The light of morning was hinting at its impending arrival when a creature who was without a heartbeat felt, once more, the touch of Life. The notes of Regret and Hope played in the muted song of Life as he sat in the stillness of a home that was almost like his own. A long note of Hope helped build up to a crescendo as he realized that he was surrounded by his family.

 

Life’s song paused to allow for the words of a chant to play across their mind.

“This does not define you.”

The words, whispered in a second floor bathroom, seemed to fill up his mind. Five words which seemed to define the struggles of each person under that roof.

For each person, “this” was a different thing. For each one, “this” was not a singular thing but an accumulation of slights, abuses, and neglect which had in some way brought them under this roof.

Maximillion Pegasus thought of the little boy who had been picked out of the garbage. He slept soundly _now,_ tucked into his bed by his adopted father. The path of his life was altered by the introduction of Love. However, Pegasus knew that sometimes in the darkest of nights there were memories, disguised as nightmares, which gripped the boy. Sharp echoes of the many times when nothing could drown out the growling of his own stomach. Shadowed reminiscences of countless nights when nothing could still the rattling and chattering of his teeth in the dark.

Not far from this boy, the one who was so close to becoming a happy and carefree child, was another boy. His dreams were filled with fantastical beasts but it was all a facade. Fantasies constructed for him to provide some relief from the horror of his memories. Even as these soft images tried to obliterate the creeping darkness, though, reality scratched and picked holes. It was always threatening to push its way into the boy’s brain. Threatening to drag him back to the shrieking self destructive creature he had been when he had first arrived in this home.

Pegasus felt his throat flex. A child so young but so battered and bruised in every way… inside and out. A life so short, barely begun, which was tainted so thoroughly with darkness and the evils of others. But there _could_ be hope for him…

 

He thought of the the little girl, fresh tears on her cheeks, still struggling to understand the words which were being spoken to her. Her nightmares, the terrible memories which would not leave her, despite his best efforts, still gripped her mind. Her mind was being devoured by the horrible memories but her body, small and malnourished, was in the arms of a soul so kind and tender that Pegasus felt himself Hope- beyond all reason- that there was a chance for her. In that man’s arms, with his gentle words- with his Love there could be a future for the girl. A future which did not have to be gripped by constant turmoil, struggling with memories. The two were a good pair. The grown man who had once been a boy who had seen himself as a champion and the girl who still struggled to become something other than the monster she felt herself becoming.

Pegasus turned his thoughts to the kind soul who held the girl. Whose tortured memories were a mystery to him. Laid bare before Pegasus were the thoughts and memories of those children, but the man’s mind volunteered very little to him. His acquaintance. His friend. His brother. The only person he had known since before some nasty twist of Fate set him on the path which had led to this life. A man he had known when they were living children. This person he had once been so close to was nearly a stranger to him in this century. He had become a man so unlike the boy that Pegasus had known, all those years ago. He had endured so many things but it was all a closed book which Pegasus hesitated to pry open. Even under the pressure of nearly overwhelming curiosity, Pegasus knew that the cost of prying would be too great… for both of them. 

Just like those children, his mind had locked away things he could not face.

Plus, Pegasus understood… each person was entitled to their own personal mysteries. Even from those who love them.

Pegasus' mind left that of the girl and the man. As whispered reassurances and growing confidence swirled, he turned away. His mind wandered away, feeling as if he had to get away before he intruded too long. He found it focused on another tortured man, pacing in his own bedroom, down the hall from them. This was a man who had cared for Pegasus and his brother when they had been young. He had endured countless centuries of torture but still 

managed to retain some tenderness for the children in his care. Pegasus followed the tumult of thoughts and emotions as Bakura worried about all the children who had been under his care. His thoughts about the little boy, the son of his son, who was on his way to possibly becoming ‘normal.’ He fretted over the boy who was ever on the verge of being swallowed up by the horrors in his own mind. He thought of how he could soothe the girl, even as he stayed his hand, afraid to make it worse. Even though they were adults, he worried about Pegasus and Seto. Fixed in the center of his never-ending storm of thoughts and emotions were Yuugi, Anzu, Mokuba, Seto, and Pegasus.

Even after all of the centuries, it seemed that each child had left some mark upon him. Even under the long march of time, his emotions had not been exhausted. So many of his children gathered under one roof caused the man’s mind race, as he tried to find some way to comfort each one of them. Thoughts roiled and tumbled over each other as he worried about the happiness of each.

Pulling his mind away from the others, Pegasus turned his thoughts inward. He examined himself. The emotions and thoughts… the memories. Abuses and torture. Scars and fears. All criss crossing and compounding each other. Layer upon layer of crosshatching which made the larger picture of who he was. Just like every person under this roof. Like the children and his brother, Pegasus could follow those lines and seep down through the layers to find a hole in his life, where it had all begun.

A child, as each of them had been, cast out into the world without protection. They had all been left, vulnerable. They had all become the prey of some beast who saw weakness as an invitation.

Layered upon that hole was a collection of fragmented memories, an endless parade of abusers. But that was where the young Mokuba’s picture differed from those of the others. For him, in the depths of despair and neglect, he had been lifted up by Seto. Into his path had come a person who freely offered him love and kindness. Mokuba had been spared from the awful possibilities which could have darkened his path. For him, it was some beautiful stroke of luck, a thing the boy could not fully understand. He was unaware of the the darkest of evils he had been saved from encountering. Seto, however, knew. He had altered Mokuba’s path in life, because he knew _all too well_ that the foulest of beasts were always waiting for a child left alone in the world. _Always searching for easy prey._

 

In the grand scheme of things, when one is examining victims there is no way to justifiably say that one victim is more ‘lucky’ than another. Each individual is entitled to the full strength of their sorrow. Their pain cannot be weighed against that of another.

However, even as he tried to be objective, Pegasus still felt that Mokuba had been lucky. Into his life had come Seto, a gentle soul. That had not been the fate for Pegasus, Yuugi, Anzu, or Seto. In their depths of despair. In a point in their little lives when happiness was a strange construct only briefly gleaned. They found themselves in the clutches of beasts who taught them that what they had known before was merely pain and discomfort _by comparison_. They had never known _true_ despair or agony until...

 

Heartless monsters had carved upon their beings signs of ownership and force-fed them their weaknesses.

Once more, paths split and, once more, Pegasus reminded himself that sorrow and anguish cannot be rightly measured and compared…but…he and Seto had been fundamentally stripped of their lives. Eternal markings, physical and otherwise, showed them, reminded them daily, that their paths had been altered by others.

A collection of cuts and scars forever bore witness to their inability to protect themselves. Real and remembered, imagined and illusory scars. Even the wisdom of so many years could not soothe the burning pain which accompanied each instance of preternatural hunger. Or the stinging silence which filled a breast which could no longer be home to a beating heart.

 

Their lives, the paths they had taken, all ran through Pegasus’ mind.

Children, all abandoned and unwanted.

Mokuba, the boy who had been saved. A path diverted by Seto.

The dark shadow of a monster whose cruelty and insanity drove it, had swooped down to feast on abandoned children… mind, body, and soul.

Yuugi and Anzu, two children brought into the palm of the monster with designs to fulfill its desires and twisted regrets. A path diverted by those who had once been in their positions.

Seto, a boy who had meant with all of his heart to become a champion, who had found himself as a man without his humanity. A path split by the claw of the monster and then altered once more by his own hand. 

Pegasus, a boy who had held on so fervently to the hope of a champion, who found…

For Pegasus, there was another monster. There is no properly calibrated scale which can measure or contrast the evils of monsters- just as there is no way to judge the pain of one against another. No tool can truly rank terror…

But bare cruelty might be a… _kindness_ compared to the devices of other monsters…

 

A shaking hand found its way to the dead thing in an eye socket. Light touches of slender fingertips followed the curves in a practiced path, indelibly etched into the memories of muscles.

 

It glittered. Gold. An object of value on its own, even if the viewer did not know of its secret gifts. To those who knew, it was precious and without a countable value. It could not be expressed enough, no number could be affixed to the worth of the power it could bestow to its owner. However, for the man whose body it interrupted, for the man whose eye socket it occupied... its power was unwanted.

Nestled in his skull, it was little more than a grotesque reminder of violations. A visible mark to show the world that he was not a man. He was some strange _thing_. A sense of ownership over his own body, forever denied to him. This was the mark he could not hide in clothing. Not a thing he could cover with cosmetics. This was a gaudy and grotesque mark which would confuse others, if they should happen to see it, and sicken him for all of eternity, as he felt its presence.

His fingers traced the ridges and curves of the object. The flesh had long ago, begrudgingly accepted the intrusive object. The wound had ceased to weep. The flesh had ceased its futile efforts to regrow. Now the alien object was in an uneasy truce with his body. But he was still loathe to accept it.

Ancient and corrupted, the object gave him untold power. Its gifts allowed him to look into those around him. For him, the thoughts and desires of every man, woman, and child were laid bare. With that object and the abilities granted to him in his transformation, he could be a god. He could spread his influence over the world. He could reach out and take whatever he wanted. He could amass wealth and power in quantities the world had never seen before. _With ease_. 

He could divert the paths of those around him. Pegasus could use all at his disposal to have _anything_ …

Unfortunately, the one thing it could not grant him was the one thing that he longed for with all his being.

Himself.

No matter the power that the object gave him, it had been a tool for another. It had only come to be within his body because he had been made to carry the burden and consequences of its use. With as much autonomy as an oven mitt, he had been used to protect its true user from the dangers such a powerful object always carried.

 

For Pegasus, there was little thought spared for the dreams of selfish gains. For him, there was only the constant and cold reminder of the violation of his body, mind, and soul.

 

One of the world’s most powerful businessmen sat on a sofa, and tried not to shake as his thoughts swirled around the eternal reminder of his weaknesses, the darkness which should have been burned away in an inferno… Darkness which still tainted every thing and everyone it had come in contact with.

~

Regret feeds on Hope. Hope fights Regret. And Life curls back upon itself and springs forth in each turn. The opportunity to be alive enough to have Regret and Hope is priceless but in the darkness and sorrow, of a morning barely begun, it can be very difficult to accept it as a blessing.


	2. The Plans of Children and Men

Life cares little for what you think it should be. It rarely, if ever, acquiesces to adhere to whatever plans you attempt to thrust upon it. It will happily throw you from the path which you have so carefully laid out. It will watch as you tumble and flail, standing side by side with Fate and Chance.

~

Tick.

The night had not gone to plan. Nothing had happened as Pegasus had envisioned it. In one of the few times in one’s life when everything _had_ to go perfectly. In one of the rare and pivotal moments when everything stood on the pin sharp point of a single decision. When all events had to go _exactly_ to plan.

They hadn’t. Everything had gone wrong. _Everything_ had gone wrong.

Pegasus sighed. The strange sound filled the empty darkness of his office.

He was a cool and calm negotiator. He was a level headed businessman. He was a constant island of serenity, no matter the storms which blew about him. Despite his theatrical outbursts in the press. Despite his flamboyant public persona. Pegasus, Maximillion Pegasus, the great businessman was a quiet and thoughtful person at his core.

He possessed poise, grace, and maturity which knew few equals. His true emotions were carefully guarded and his turbulent thoughts meticulously examined, to prevent them from seeping out at some inopportune moment.

However, there was one person who always managed to draw strong emotions from him. One person who seemed to draw _every_ strong emotion from him. One person in the world for whom his heart was a raw open beating bundle of blood and emotions. One person for whom Pegasus suddenly transformed into the little boy he had once been centuries ago. With just a look, this one person could disarm and unbalance him.

_That_ had been the person he had tried to speak to this night. That was the person he had hoped he could be a calm and composed adult with this night. It had been a carefully planned gamble but he had been prepared.

He had planned to sit down with him and have a reasonable conversation. He was going to lay out for him the dire situation which was, even at this moment, unfolding. For weeks he had compiled his list of reasons. A conversation, an argument, a plea which would call upon the passions of the other man. He had practiced what he would say. He had anticipated the resistance that he would face. He had charted how he would use their common experiences to steer this man towards the decision which needed to be made. He would use this man’s emotions to spur him to action. Every conceivable angle had been painstakingly analyzed.

His eyes flicked down to the notebook, with its carefully written characters, where he had constructed his plans.

He had prepared himself so thoroughly.

_But…_

But he should have known.

As soon as his stomach had rolled at the smell. That faint whiff of something which to the nose of his memories heralded a savage storm. He should have known better.

In the quiet, alone, he knew that he _had_ known better. Unfortunately, he had rationalized that the plan called for him to push through and make his case.

Pegasus clenched his fist.

He had been so sure that his planned conversation could still take place. His singular focus- no- his _arrogance_ had undone him. He had thought that he could overcome the corrupting influence of Yami and appeal to Seto. He had somehow thought that there was a chance for a civil conversation in the wake of that monster.

But deep within him…he had known that it wouldn’t be possible.

They had both been under that monster’s thumb. He knew well enough how unsettling it was to be in the presence of that embodiment of evil.

A sickening revulsion rolled through the man as he thought of that thumb. That hand. Another’s hand. Many hands.

He gripped the edge of his desk and tried not to vomit. Waves of sickness crashed down upon him.

Somehow he had thought that he could overcome this tumult in Seto. Convince the man to join him. Set them both on a path that would bring them once more into that corrosive presence.

_Stupidity._

_Arrogance._

_Foolishness._

He shuddered and realized that his hand was to his mouth. The sickness swirled with his self-reproach. Pegasus had looked at every angle but he had not anticipated Yami’s actions- more importantly he had willfully neglected to examine his _own_ emotions. He had forgotten about the effect that Seto had upon him.

For Seto, Pegasus' heart was a bloody thumping thing, so overwhelmed with emotion. It was like a living and raw thing, held in the hand of a soft little boy with silver hair.

The boy Pegasus had once been…

Max…

The boy who had been scrapped out of the garbage. The boy who had been taken out of a human hell and dropped into a supernatural nightmare.

No matter the space of time or lifetime, Seto would always have Max’s…Pegasus' heart.

In the depth of despair and the dark of night Pegasus knew that Yami would always own his stomach. The sickening waves of the compounded nightmares of his memories and the shared pain of Seto’s torture.

However… in his face, the thing in Pegasus’ skull… There was something which belonged to the monster who had made him theirs. That “eye” would always belong to Malik.

Pegasus felt his palm on his cheek, the fingertips reflexively tracing the polished curves of the abomination, mercilessly planted in his skull.

The hate which blinded Seto was not foreign to Pegasus…

All the more reason that he should have realized the impossibility of the task he had endeavored to accomplish.

“How could I have been so foolish?” Soft words fell from the man’s lips and floated off into the empty darkness.

The second hand on his clock swept. The minute hand ticked. The question repeated itself in his mind.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

A brave little boy, whispering in a cramped and dim space. Promises and assurances, repeated as a chant. A prayer. A sacred ritual. Words spoken by a boy who could no more understand the importance of his words than the impossibility of his promises. Caught by the ears of a boy who tucks each word into his heart. Memorizing the sounds. Finding Hope in each syllable.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

Watching a little boy stand up, ready to leave the illusionary safety of some closet or cupboard. A smaller boy begging him to stay. A bitter ritual repeated time and again. Every time, holding desperately onto some impossible dream that this time he will stay. Little hands reaching for the other boy. Little fingers grasping at nothing but Hope.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

Purple eyes hovering mere centimeters away but somehow pressing down with the weight of the world. White hair falling in a curtain making the closeness even more complete and even more unbearable. “I have some news for you…” A cruel white smile cuts across dark flesh. “Seems Seto has been released…”

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

Screams fill a cold chamber. Crashing against the walls. Rushing back with greater fury. A cacophony of agony drowning out all other sounds. Underneath it, the jarring rattling of chains. Iron tethers set to dancing by the violent thrashing of thin limbs in their futile convulsions. All completely obliterating the cause of the screams and thrashing. A sucking noise goes unheard but its sensation is not muted. An instrument is inserted again and again. Carefully the tool digs deeper and deeper. Employed with dispassionate precision.

A jerk of the head causes metal to scrape bone.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

In a dimly lit room an eye stares, almost without seeing. Held before it is a mirror but the reflection is not of the beholder. It must be a lie… The face shown on its surface belongs to another… Disgust and terror grips the soul who holds that eye. This face before him, one half belonging to a boy and the other…to a nightmare…it is supposed to be his own. But it cannot be. This face cannot belong to any human…

The eye, swollen and red from an overabundance of crying and complete lack of sleep, takes in the alien face. It stares in horror at the brutal scene reflected in the mirror. A marred half of a face is coupled with a mauled lump of flesh, stitches, and some foreign object. The eye would cry if its tears hadn’t been exhausted. 

A dead golden lump stares, unblinking, back at the boy.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

A finger traces lines of stitches. Over and over again. Fingers run over bald scalp as stubble begins to regrow. In a constant compulsion, fingers follow the curves of the object now taking up residences in a gaunt face.

Blank thoughts like the endless ‘ssh’ing of sand falling from a hand which never empties fill a broken mind. Dirty, bony, fingertips move without thought. Blood is smeared in their wake. Pus marks their trail.

Servants and a slave come to wipe away the evidence of the fingers’ never-ending work but the fingers return to their toil as soon as they are released.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

Alone in a cold chamber. Looking, without seeing at the stones of a wall. An unending throbbing lives in the place where an eye had once been. Blood and other things ooze down a swollen cheek. Fingers twitch and jerk in an endless dance, searching for the flesh they can no longer reach. Thin arms sit in thick metal shackles, restraining them from the nightmare which they seek to explore. Hands shake as they fight to once more interrogate the testament of cruelty carved into their owner’s flesh.

A bitter taste both real and imagined fills a mouth. Drool, blood, and pus mixes in a steady and unending line from eye socket to chin. Red, white, and yellow, all briefly glimpsed in a looking glass when the beholder is made to view his nightmare.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

In the depths of darkness and despair a fresh new violation takes place. A throat is opened. Life pumps out, into a greedy mouth.

A new liquid is forced between slack lips. A new life for one who is hovering on the brink of death. A final end to a life which was so filled with anguish and emptiness.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

Fresh screams fill a cold chamber. They roll out and crash upon the walls. They roll back, splintered and multiplied. Claw like fingers desperately reach for a burning throat.

A mind divorced from a body is dragged back, cruelly, to be tied to the hell its body now must grapple with.

Pain is defined anew. What was once thought to be the limits of anguish and despair are dismissed as only a prelude. 

Over and over again…

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

A sickening but _so_ desired taste on lips. Lips crack as a greedy mouth opens and gulps. They split as desperate whispers hiss forth, horrible prayers for more…

The last remnant of some life which was ended pours down a throat which feverishly works to receive it.

An eye stares up at a bare ceiling, away from stained fingers.

Its owner does not wish to begin the process of self hate just yet. Sustenance is necessary but the depression and hate are a luxury.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

Blood filling a mouth and swallowed. Sickness at the weakness of oneself.

The brutalized face is now settled, the turmoil has settled into an uneasy truce. The disappearance of the immediate need for blood to heal oneself has now given way to crippling waves of hate and loathing.

Survival seems disgustingly assured and now one must consider what cost their survival comes at.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

“How beautiful!” Purple eyes fill up a field of vision. They dart and jump from detail to detail as they admire their owner’s handiwork. Purred words fill up the silence. “My work is flawless. Don’t you agree?” A monster’s face turns and a mirror is revealed. The lying glass shows a face, now ugly and wretchedly transformed. Dark fingers trace a brow where hair has begun to be allowed to grow again.

A thick poultice still rings the now dead eye socket, assurance against the constant unthinking attempts to oust the intruder. An original blueprint for what the whole person should be, is chipped away. The viewer stares at the lying glass and something in them pokes at the dead lump that was once their heart.

Everything is numb.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

A fresh hell is torn open. Words. Images. Sensations. Desires. Fears. Woes. Pain. Anguish. Terror. Joy. Every thing that might live in the mind of a person now plays endlessly for an unwilling peeping Tom. His mind looks through the abominable ‘eye’ that now resides in his head and he sees it all.

He sees the thoughts of the one who transformed him. He sees the words and images, plans unfolding and wrapping tighter around him…intent on dragging him into a shackled eternity as a tool.

…but…he also sees fears, woes, pain, and terror…things he had never dreamed could be within the monster who thought to master him.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

Meat is torn free. A spray of blood explodes forth. Purple eyes widen in shock. A swift strike. The crash of glass shattering as it hits the floor. A mouth works without the reward of words. A head is held aloft, separated from its body. The body convulses, the last messages of the divorced brain sent out, spurring on a useless fight in the limbs.

A dispassionate eye looks at the head in its owner’s lap. Everything is suddenly quiet. The cacophony of thoughts suddenly ended, like a door closed on a storm.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

Fingers, stained with blood, trace a white brow over a frozen purple eye. They reach effortlessly into the socket. A purple eye comes free of its home. Pulling until they feel the satisfying snaps of nerves tearing free.

An eye sits without seeing in the palm of a creature who was once a boy. A creature who was once afraid.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

Sitting on a luxurious sheet. Staring at the head in one hand. Looking deeply into the empty space. An eye was left without a home or a care for some terrified servant to find.

_Come what may. This peace is worth any trouble._ A parting thought of a mind about to finally find sleep. With a head wrapped in thin arms.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

Hope is a boon and a crippling drug. Hope that someone will come to save one from their nightmares. Hope that pain will end. Hope that some solution will present itself if you only wait patiently. And most insidious of them all, the hope that the current torment is the worst that it could ever be.

All dispelled as a boy was transformed into a creature and the creature in its turn becomes a beast. Shaping the world around him with peers that he never requested. Using a tool meant for another to dominate. A strange and fantastical beast emerges from an unknown dungeon and spreads its wings. It takes flight.

Pegasus…

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

Pegasus, the man, the beast, the public persona. The calm tactician. The one who saved himself. Now he finds himself in need of another’s assistance. Once more he gives in to the drug that is Hope.

 

_Tick._

_How could I be so foolish?_

Sitting across from a brother. Losing to a tidal wave of emotions. Yelling. Quietly scolding. Throwing away all composure to deliver a cruel truth.

Once more betrayed by Hope. But now it is not a single life held in the balance but two.

 

 

Pegasus stared into the dark space before him. The lives of two people had rested in his hands and he had been so foolish as to try to pass that responsibility off to another. He had been so blinded by old promises. So unsure of his own abilities. So disrespectful of the power of hate. So willing to fall under the thrall of Hope.

 

Now, the plan was worthless and a disaster…

His eye flicked to the clock on his desk. What was he doing? The night had not ended. The minutes had ticked away. Ticked away and piled up as he had lamented his foolishness. As his sins had piled up. As…

No!

Now was his moment. He had accepted his foolishness. He had wallowed in his inequities. But he could no longer dwell on his stupidity. Lives hung in the balance! He would _not_ let his regrets hold him hostage! He would _not_ allow those he sought to save to suffer for his sin of stupidity!

He would be a hero once more!

Had he the capacity, his blood would be thumping in his ears. Instead, all that filled him, as he gathered his courage, were the thoughts and words of a new plan as he stitched it together. There was little chance of subterfuge now. There was no chance of outside help. There was _still_ a chance to confront the monster. To save those children!

_He_ had to act!

The intoxication of Hope filled him again.

He was Maximillion Pegasus. He had staff, money, and power beyond anyone’s reckoning! He could still salvage this night.

He stood up from his desk as his strength and resolve returned to him. He was no longer a helpless chid! He was _Pegasus_!

He would amass his forces.

He would-

The telephone rang.

The phone was in his hand before he thought about the action. “What?” he snapped. He didn’t have time for some conversation-

“Max, you were right. I’ve been spoiled and blind all these years. I need to take care of some business.”

Every fiery nerve, every muscle, tensed and ready for action, froze. Pegasus felt his legs give way under him and he fell back down into his chair.

A steadying breath came over the line.

“If I don’t return, I’m going to need you to take care of Mokuba.”

Suddenly, the readied and hardened hero-to-be was gone. The little boy with the raw heart sat with the phone to his ear and his heart in his hand. “Wait! What’s going on?” He sat up straighter and his hand gripped the receiver as if he had some hope to reach through it and take a hold of the man, his brother, on the other end.

Silence met his question.

The heart seized in the hand. Unsure of what it was readying itself for. Prepared to burst.

Terror filled Pegasus.

“I have a promise to keep and another to atone for breaking.”

Fear. Hope. Foolishness. Love. Bravery deferred. Terror. Confusion.

“What does that-” Tremors ran through the man. Words from a promise still stamped upon his mind and stitched across his heart surfaced.

“ _When we are free we will go anywhere. We will do anything. Best of all, we won’t have to ask for permission._ ” Words in his mind floated to him over the telephone line. The heart in the boy’s hand began to pump frantically. Pegasus' mind raced. Hope blossomed.

“If I’m not back in a day, take Mokuba and disappear.”

The heart seized. Hope froze in its growth.

Pegasus jumped, “Seto! Wait! No! I have a plan! We can stop him together! SETO! SETO!!” Even as he screamed his brother’s name the hollowness of the disconnected call told him that there was no one to hear his cries.

Suddenly, everything which had been laid to rest. All of those hopes. All of those plans. All of it suddenly shattered and burst into flames, in an explosion of thoughts. This was no longer the time for quiet contemplation. It was the time for action

 

He had to save those children. He had to save his brother.

~

Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. They all have different skills and abilities. They each have their time. More often than not the hero is not who you expect. Or the expected hero acts when you least expect them to. However, every hero has Hope. We expect that they hope for the positive outcome that we all wish for. We expect that they will fight to realize it. We don’t appreciate the dark and tangled web of Regrets which Hope had to fight through to help transform an individual into the hero they prove themselves to be. Pegasus grappled with his Regrets and grasped Hope once more…unaware of the struggles of his brother that night.


	3. All the Things We Gained in the Fire

Running and running. Each of us find ourselves alternating between the stationary wheel, going nowhere, and the set track, coming back over and over again to where we began. However, there are times when we must break free of both to blaze a new trail or explore new territory.

In the raw flickering light and jagged dancing shadows individuals find themselves all running on a new path together. Running away from a monster which has haunted them. Running towards a new life…and new problems…

~

The fire was visible long before they reached the mansion. A beacon in the darkness. A blazing point on a hill. Pegasus imagined that he could feel the flames licking at his flesh. He imagined that he could hear the cracking of timber.

Ringing in his ear were screams that he couldn’t possibly hear within the car.

“FASTER!!” He yelled at his driver, even as the driver saw the flames.

His convoy raced up the private road towards the fiery spectacle. Pegasus could hear all of their garbled thoughts as they alternated between confusion, fear, and their loyalty to him. If he asked them to, they would all run into those flames, but that wasn’t what he was thinking about.

Where was Bakura? Where were the children? …where was Seto?

How had he gotten into the mansion? Had he fought Yami? Who had won?

Was Bakura Injured? Had he been able to get the children out? Had he tried to join in the fight against Yami?

Had they both failed and Yami set fire to his mansion in some frustrated outburst?

The questions fell one after another like boulders into a lake. Before the crash and ripples had subsided another would fall. An avalanche of fear and worry overtook Pegasus. His fingers sunk into the chair, they broke through the fabric but he couldn’t loosen his grip.

The fire grew closer. The questions crashed down. Pegasus could think of fewer and fewer ways that Seto could have survived the fire… Yami would never have allowed his home to just be burned… Who had survived…?

The vehicle hadn’t stopped before Pegasus leaped from it. The fear and worry were crushing him. He ran the last few yards to the growing destruction. The inferno’s intense heat hit him and rolled over him. He did not slow his pace. He ran closer. His eyes swept the long driveway but there was no one there to greet him. There was no group of survivors waiting for him to take them away.

For an instant, he felt the beginnings of panic rising within himself but he drove it back down. He might have to run inside. He needed to be prepared for what might be awaiting him.

The wind shifted and the flames leapt higher into the sky. The shadows of the sculpted hedges jumped and danced in the uneven lighting.

A little voice within him wondered if anything could have survived well enough to escape the flames. He tried to push the voice down, to smother it, as he continued forward. He would refuse to listen to that nagging doubt until he held some sign... some remnant... 

He was nearly to the door but there was still no sign of survivors.

His eye searched for some movement of a person who was trying to get out. A shadow. A silhouette. A hope that he had not been too late.

“Max!” A voice came from behind him. He turned quickly. A huddled mass. A familiar face looked up at him and he ran back. Bakura. An old friend. Safe. Alive. But… alone… His eye searched and his mouth opened. Bakura’s hand moved aside a large coat. Filthy, gaunt, creatures wrapped one around another were revealed. “They’re alive.” Bakura looked up at Pegasus with a weary smile.

Relief began to flood Pegasus. Safe. They were all safe. Every taut nerve relaxed a fraction.

“Not yet.” Bakura looked at the ruined mansion. “He’s still inside. Seto is in there.”

Pegasus' eye flicked to the burning building and back to the children. This was not part of the plan. Everyone was supposed to get out together. But this was a moment which could not be allowed to go wrong. Pegasus pulled the coat back over the children and straightened up.

People came from the convoy, they looked from the inferno to their boss, nervously. They wondered what they were to do there. They wondered about what was going to happen. Pegasus squared his shoulders and called for their attention. With a quick eye and quicker mind, he directed them to take the children away, begin containing the fire, and begin monitoring the news and strategizing a response. 

Loyalty and trust made their reactions swift. There were no questions. No one hesitated. Everyone trusted in his vision for this night and they threw themselves into their tasks.

 

For a moment, Pegasus stared at the temple to the foul monster. This was a place which haunted the edges of his nightmares. It was a place which dominated Seto’s fears. So much evil had happened here. Even if this wasn’t the same building from centuries ago, its connection with Yami corrupted it…

It would be allowed to burn. He knew, without a single doubt, that that place could not be allowed to survive. It was better to let it be consumed by the cleansing fire. Let the spirits tied to it be freed. Let the skeletons be unearthed. It was a fitting close to a volume of detestable history, that the world had not noticed, spanning the millennia.

His staff ran to unload and acquire tools to begin digging a trench to keep the fire from spreading. The corruption would not be allowed to spread past its foundations.

The manor would soon be finished but Pegasus had to make sure that before it went out of this world, taking its evil with it, it did not take one precious person with it.

There was still one good thing trapped inside. He needed to be saved. Pegasus felt his feet moving him forward. There was no plan this time, only a need which drove him into the flames.

He took a step towards the doorway but a hand touched his arm.

“It is not only fire which traps him, Max.” Pegasus looked down, Bakura’s eyes were riveted to the fire but its light couldn’t dispel the shadow from them.

 

Flames raced up the walls. Their heat licked at the two as they fought their way forward to retrieve their loved one.

 

Pegasus squinted and shielded his eyes with his arm. His muscles remembered the layout of the building he had traversed many times in his youth. An old design that Yami had chosen again and again as he had moved house, stamping his corruption on plot after plot of land.

His body moving on its own, fighting through the debris and hazards, his mind raced as he tried to catch some sight of Seto. Bakura pulled him in the direction where the throne room would be. 

Seto might have met the monster there. He might have engaged in some battle with him. He might have… he might be lying on the ground, injured. He might be dragging himself towards a door which would be difficult to find in all the smoke and debris. He might be dead- No! Pegasus waved his arm, trying to move the clouds of black smoke. His mind raced as he tried not to imagine Seto’s helpless body lying prone on the ground. A corpse he might trip on.

Bakura shook his arm violently. He stopped short and saw the thick wooden beam blocking the doorway in front of them.

Pegasus braced himself and threw the beam aside. 

Smoke cleared for a moment. Pulled in riotous swirls. The barrier of sight was suddenly broken.

The curtain lifted away and for an instant, the little boy with the heart reappeared.

Flames snapped and lashed violently, heedless of any object or person in their reach. But there, somehow, in a space, which seemed to be governed by some serenity was a space safe from the rage of fire and smoke. In its strange void was a throne with a bloodied king.

“SETO!!” Pegasus heard the blessed name spring from his mouth. He expected some action in response. An abrupt end to this horrible scene. Seto would stand up and walk toward him. The three of them would walk out of this doomed place. They would leave, miraculously unscathed. This would be an unqualified victory.

The form didn’t move.

The smoke rushed back to hide the room once more.

Everything was moving suddenly. Pegasus was moving. Racing forward. Lashing out at the smoke. Throwing debris out of the way. Hurdling over a fallen pillar. Fire be damned. He rushed through, to the place he had seen.

There was no happy sight to greet him when he arrived. There was no hopeful show to welcome him. There was no clean victory. There was only a tragic mess. A dramatic display of the heart wrenching cruelty of this world.

Upon the throne was a testament to the ultimate sacrifice. A bloody proof of a promise made with love and finally fulfilled at great cost.

Battered, torn, bloodied, and burned. The body of Seto Kaiba sat motionless on a gilded throne. A king cut down just as he proved himself a courageous leader.

A broken king… His strong arms still held tight to the corpse of the monster. Even deceased, his muscles seemed engaged, unwilling to allow for the slightest chance that the monster might escape. His arms still held onto the broken body of his foe. They had held on even as the monster had fought for its survival. The smaller creature had fought wildly. Its sharp claws had struck out with an unbridled fury.

Those once perfect talons had torn open half of Seto’s face. The right eye socket yawned opened. Pegasus felt a dull ache in his skull and a sharp pain in his gut. His eye stared deep into the hole. The wild splatter of blood. The scattered flecks of muscle and flesh. The gleaming white of bone. All of it dragged from him the memories he tried so hard to bury. But here his brother sat…here a corpse sat with an empty wound laughing at him and all of those plans which had gone up in smoke.

 

His eye fell down from those angry wounds. Down to one of the hands which had inflicted those wounds. Pegasus looked at the torn hands at Seto’s throat. He looked at the rag doll which had once been a magnificent and terrible monster. Now it was nothing but a badly put together collection of blood, meat, and bone. Seto had given as good as he had gotten.

But he had managed to do even more.

The once slender and perfect throat stretched out beneath Seto’s chin. It was nothing more than what bits of flesh could still find purchase. Bone glistened under blood. Flesh and organs were torn away as if by some frenzied and inept taxidermist. The monster had been undone by one of its creations. It had lost everything with the actions of a single man.

At once, Pegasus felt joy and sorrow…but it was his disgust which won out.

His eye followed the torn neck back to his brother’s chin and then to a sight which he knew would haunt him forevermore.

The look on his brother’s face… Spread across his lips was a smile. A serene moment in time, forever frozen. Perfect serenity… but for the blood. The blood and chunks of meat. Meat and jagged chips of bone. All splattered across those serene lips. A disgusting display marring his final moment.

Even in death Seto could not be free of the corruption of Yami.

Fat red tears sprang from Pegasus' eyes. This was not the plan. This was not how this was supposed to end! His brother was supposed to triumph against the monster. He was supposed to be alive to celebrate. He wasn’t supposed to rush out on his own. His triumph was not supposed to be his downfall!

_How could I be so foolish?_

How could one expect that such a great task could be undertaken without the need for a great sacrifice? How could one face such a terrible foe and hope to survive?

_If I’m not back…_

No…

His hand reached for the filthy monster. He could not allow Seto’s sacrifice to be mixed with any piece of this monster. He could not allow the monster to be in contact with his beloved brother any longer. Seto had managed a miracle. He had done something beautiful. His final rest could not be allowed to be infringed upon by the monster. Seto’s-

 

“…Please, Seto, let’s go.”

The soft words cut across the cacophony of breaking timber and falling stones. Suddenly everything was moving for Pegasus again. His thoughts interrupted.

His hand froze.

Seto’s head shifted. His eye opened. His lips parted. His smile widened, wearily.

“I just wish I could have saved everyone.”

The words set the raw heart beating wildly. Pegasus ceased to write Seto’s obituary.

Seto could be saved!

A pale hand began to disengage fingers, still wrapped like iron around the monster’s corpse. Pegasus' eye flew to Bakura’s face and back to the Seto’s. He suddenly remembered what he must do.

Seto’s body shifted, muscles loosened, and his head fell back.

The heart seized.

“Dear Love, please protect my brother, Mokuba. Please watch over Bakura and Max. Please care for those two children. Please do all that I could not.” Mumbled words set the heart hammering once more. 

A beam gave way in the ceiling and a fresh rush of air fed the flames. In the blazing glow, Pegasus saw Seto’s eye roll back. His weight settled fully in the throne. His grip loosen on the corpse.

For an instant everything froze. The heart stopped. Tears, fat and red, blinded him. This was the end.

“HURRY! Before he comes around again!” Once more Bakura’s voice cut across the din and Pegasus' thoughts. “His story hasn’t ended quite yet! Get that _thing_ off of him! We have to get him out of here! MAX! MOVE!”

Pegasus jumped into action, he and Bakura pried Seto’s fingers loose. Pegasus looked around the room and found that the way they had come in was blocked. The pieces of the ceiling had collapsed over the path. He scanned the wall and saw that some earlier damage had knocked out part of an exterior wall.

He bent down and gathered Seto up as best he could. The size difference made it difficult but determination and Love gave him all of the strength he needed. Flames reached out for him. He dodged as best he could and made his way carefully to the hole. If he could just get to the hole, he could get Seto outside. They could get back to his home. Bakura would look at his wounds and they would begin healing him-

Suddenly, Pegasus realized that Bakura wasn’t with him. He turned his head and desperately tried to see through the flames. “BAKURA!”

“JUST GO!”

“NO! WE-!”

“GET! OUT!” Bakura’s voice was like cold steel. “I NEED TO FINISH THIS!”

Something overhead cracked, another beam was about to give way. Pegasus glanced down at the body in his arms. This was not a night he wanted to have claim any of his family… 

 

No! Not the time for moping and indecision!

 

He broke into a run. He hurdled over debris. The hole, a cut out made of black behind an undulating curtain of fire. He ran towards it.

The hole didn’t look quite big enough.

Pegasus ran on. He stopped just to the side of the hole and kicked. He reared back and his foot shot out. Stone and wood were no match for his fury. He was _Maximillion Pegasus._ He had slain a monster. He had run into a burning building. This wall was _not_ going to be the thing which stopped him. This house of horror was not going to take his family away from him.

Again and again his foot connected with the wall. The violent cracking of stone and wood giving way held his attention. He blocked out the heat of the flames. He ignored the stinging of the smoke.

The hole widened enough and Pegasus ran through with Seto in his arms.

People came running towards him from all sides. They all called out to him. Hands tried to take Seto from him. A blanket was thrown over him. Hands beat at him. Voices kept repeating “Fire!” He tried to keep his grip on his brother. He tried to get away from all of the hands. He stumbled forward. His focus was now on getting Seto inside a vehicle.

They would take him home. They would tend to his wounds. They would make sure that Seto lived.

“Max! Stop.” A cold hand began prying his fingers from Seto’s limp body. “Let go, Max. I’ll take him. You’re on fire.” Bakura’s voice cut through the blanket and the frantic murmur of the people trying to smother the flames which had been threatening to cover Pegasus.

Pegasus released the body. In snatches of images, he saw Bakura walking away with the much larger man in his arms. Effortless. He walked away as if he was carrying a baby.

Hands beat at the blanket and dragged him further from the burning building. The pyre of the beast.

The fire which had almost taken his family from him.

The fire he almost allowed to take himself.

~

They say that creation comes most often from destruction. Every ending clears the way for a new beginning. For those who had suffered at the hands of Yami, the once great and eternally terrible pharaoh, this was the final full stop in a volume of their lives. The light of morning seemed to promise the cultivation of countless seeds of potential happiness in new beginnings. All, hard won and well deserved.

Unfortunately, there is no sudden happy ending- least of all, in stories which have been controlled by so much tragedy.


	4. The Weight of Regret Transferred

For what are our memories? A record of moments we have experienced. Reminders of the good. Reminders of the bad. Reminders of the amazing. Reminders of the awful. Captured moments. Some like little glowing butterflies in jars. Some sit idly, like photographs in an album. Others are roving memories. Memories which are not content to be contained. They stalk the edges of our minds. They wait until we can be caught unawares. They wait as our heavy eyelids begin to fall. Wait for the commencement of sleep.

Suddenly they pounce, flying out of the darkness to land front and center. Sometimes it is some sweet thing, a first kiss. Sometimes, it is something sour, a joke which did not go well. Other times… it is some nasty thing we thought we had carefully locked up.

Bitter dark memories circled a mind which has been overtaken by exhaustion. This is no mundane sleep which has overtaken the mind in question. It is The End.

~

Perfect darkness greeted the Traveller when he entered. For a moment he wondered if he had made a grave mistake. Was there nothing because there was no mind left to explore? Was the owner of this mind already dead?

_No._

The Traveller had been given assurances that the owner was still alive- more importantly, he couldn’t allow himself to believe that the owner was dead. He had to be alive and the Traveller was going to seek out his consciousness and bring that mind out of this darkness before it swallowed up the owner. If the Traveller could figure out the owner’s mind, if he could reach him, they could begin to heal him. If they could begin to heal him then they could save him. If they could save him then everything would be worth the struggle. Worth the pain

 

Soundless steps left faint golden footprints where the Traveller roamed. They faded slowly behind him. Soft light which dimmed and disappeared in his wake. The soft light did little to penetrate the solid darkness. The darkness was unsettling to the Traveller, who knew what the quiet _might_ mean. Though, the darkness was not as unsettling as the solid quiet.

Even a sleeping mind had some activity in it. A word might float through. Or a sensation. Even without a dream, there was always some sort of activity. But this void… This quiet and darkness was beginning to gnaw at the certainty that the Traveller held so dear.

As he began to think of leaving, he heard something. At first he wondered if it might have been imagined but more soft sounds followed. Somewhere not too far away. The Traveller turned and jogged towards the sounds.

 

A bit of light caught his attention. Something in the darkness.

A soft sliver of light.

He ran towards it and the sounds grew louder. He stood before the light, the sounds were still very soft but more defined. Whispers. Hushed words. The Traveller began to lower himself, he followed the slit down. He examined the edges of the solid cleft in the darkness.

_Wood?_ Perhaps the slit was the edge of a door and its doorway?

“One day I’ll be your champion!”

The first solid words the Traveller had heard came through. His ear next to the space, two feet from the ground. Just at the height of a small boy kneeling.

The last of the golden footprints disappeared. The Traveller sat in darkness. The soft glow of some light on the other side of the slit illuminated his pained face. He wanted to pry open the door. He wanted to reach in and grab the two boys he knew were just on the other side. He wanted to hold them and then run away with them. Away from these horrible things that he knew were all around them.

…but he also knew that they are just memories. He could no more save them from the pain than he could travel through time to truly save himself and his brother.

+…+

Pegasus sinks down, kneeling beside the crack of the doorway, listening to the little boys.

“… I’ll free us both!” the first boy says, emphatically. Young Seto. Pegasus knows the voice. The golden words.

 

He listens to the soft back and forth of the two boys. He smiles sadly as he remembers the care they had taken to smother their joy, lest it be detected.

“You and me. Just you and me.” Young Seto whispers.

“What about-?” Pegasus smiles as he hears the voice of his younger self. A beautiful soundheard through the ears of Young Seto.

“Oh yes, of course, him too! The three of us! I’ll be a real good hero and we’ll all go free!” Pegasus continues to smile, they had dared to have such high hopes.

_When you live life in the bottom of a dark pit, every hope is high._

“And then what?” Pegasus listens to the soft giggling and clapping.

Without thinking, he mouthes along as Young Seto speaks the holy words. “When we are free we will go anywhere! We will do anything! Best of all, we won’t have to ask for permission!”

With a heavy heart, Pegasus, pulls himself up from the door. He knows that Young Seto will have to exit the room. The old memory will open the door and he will follow it to the next memory. He wonders if he will see his sad little face looking at Seto. He wonders if Seto will turn back and look at him.

+…+

The slit winked out of existence.

The Traveller stood, stunned, for a moment. _What happened?!_ he desperately tried to touch the door. Maybe it had closed…?

His hand met no resistance.

Nothing.

_Gone?_

A soft laugh came from somewhere nearby.

Golden footprints marked a hasty path through the darkness. Appearing faster than their predecessors disappeared. They told of the desperate and frantic search of the Traveller.

“Why are you so nice?” A question came from the darkness. The Traveller ran straight for it and stumbled.

+…+

Pegasus suddenly finds himself in a room. Softly lit, full of drying herbs, bottles, jars, and books, it is vaguely familiar… He casts his eye about and sees a simple bed in a corner. Sitting on the bed is a little boy with big icy blue eyes and long black hair. A brush is lifted and runs through black strands.

“Because I love you too much!” The man holding the hairbrush says softly. Colored by Young Seto’s memories, Bakura is a large man. Around him hangs a gentle and soft glow. An aura of safety which comes from every inch of him. The living essence of safety and goodness.

Pegasus smiles. This is the Bakura that Seto had grown up with. A small point of joy in their terrible childhood. The two speak and Pegasus looks around at the room. He examines everything in the memory of the room, having only seen the real room once or twice in his youth.

His childhood had been spent in the home of Malik, without the slight luxury of a friendly caretaker like Bakura. Pegasus had lived with Malik, who had seen him as some kind of unwanted pet for the firstseveral years. A thing Yami had saddled him with. Pegasus had been largely neglected by Malik, consumed by the gnawing loneliness in the dark house until-

“I’m going to free us! I’m going to get stronger and then we are all going to go free! Me, you, and Max!”

Pegasus hears the words and straightens up. He turns from the desk he had been trying to examine.

 

He prepares himself for the shift to the next memory or the disappearance of all, once again.

Nothing moves.

+…+

Everything froze. A proud and resolute Young Seto was sitting up straight on the edge of the bed, in the midst of the proclamation of his heroic intentions. Bakura was glowing with pride, sitting behind him, the hairbrush frozen mid stroke.

The Traveller walked forward to look at the two. Curious, he reached forward to touch Young Seto. His hand met nothing. He stared at his wrist, his hand fully submerged in the head of the memory. He pulled his hand back quickly and stared at the head in horror.

Deep, throbbing, red began to bubble up around where his hand had gone through. The Traveller froze. This was not how the memory should have reacted- No- that wasn’t correct- _It shouldn’t have reacted at all!_

_These are memories! They can’t_ _react!_

His eye ran around the room. Desperate to see some clue to this mystery.

Instead of answers, he saw his questions grow hideously large. The same disturbing development was beginning to take place all over the room. The jars, books, even the herbs had all begun to extrude the rippling, throbbing, ooze. It began to come through the walls. Some moving, grotesque substance was bleeding into this memory. 

The Traveller looked back at the boy and the man.

Young Seto’s head was covered. The red ooze bubbled up from his mouth and eyes. It spilled down his front. His smile became haunting, just visible through the contamination. Everywhere the red dripped it began to multiply. It spread across the room. Contaminating. Consuming.

The Traveller knew that he had to escape the room. Something was corrupted in this memory and he needed to leave it. He didn’t know what would happen when the room was completely filled with that disgusted viscous… _living?_ taint. It couldn’t be anything good. He had to get out but he was so loathe to touch the contamination. 

He turned and identified the wall that he had entered through but it was completely covered. All of the walls were covered and now the stuff was beginning to drip and cover the floor. 

His eye looked about desperately. _The door!_

The door was still clear of the disgusting infection.

The Traveller ran for the door. He ran into the door. Solid wood met his face and the impact was jarring.

_No. What? How!? NO!!_

The Traveller desperately tried to reach through the door. He tried to kick at it. The door stood as firm as any real door.

_No!_

The Traveller could hear the ooze dripping. A horrible sound came from underneath it. A wheezing, moaning, sound. The two filled the quiet. A soft thumping joined them. A three part harmony of anguish.

Desperate, the Traveller finally gave into a ridiculous notion. He grasped the doorknob and turned it. He tried to push it but it stayed firm. He pulled it in a fraction. A flood of relief overtook the Traveller. He quickly pulled the door open and rushed out.

His foot caught on something solid and he fell forward.

_What? Solid…?_ He turned and saw a strange creature on the ground. Shadows clung to it and only an undulating dark red light came from the doorway. The creature was spread out on the ground and one limb seemed to be stretched out towards the doorway.

The Traveller scrambled to his hands and knees and bent over the thing. _The source of the corruption?_ He squinted and leaned closer. It was human shaped. The thing’s head was on the ground and some sound came from it. Gasping and moaning, a soft wheeze of sounds as it struggled to breathe.

A scream ripped through the darkness.

The Traveller looked up. He would have to follow that…in a moment… He _needed_ to know what this thing was. Why would Seto think of this thing? Did it represent something? Was it something he had seen once.

“Ba…ku…ra…” The creature croaked.

+…+

The syllables hit Pegasus' ears like the crack of thunder. His wide eye stares at the creature. It lifts its head with a great effort and drags itself an inch closer to the doorway. Underneath the blotches of bruises and the thick shadows is a face Pegasus knows well.

“Please…help…me…”

Pegasus scrambles away from the creature…Young Seto. A scream tears through the darkness again.

The soft golden glow of his scrambling hands and feet illuminates dark patches on the body. For a blessed moment, Pegasus thinks they are just shadows… but then he sees their tracks. He freezes and his eye locks onto those spots, transfixed until the glow disappears.

+…+

Blood.

Covering the boy from the waist down. Pooling out around his legs. 

The Traveller stared at the darkness, at the spot where he knew the boy was.

Another scream rang out. The scream was followed quickly by another. The screams multiplied and echoed. They filled the darkness.

The Traveller found himself praying for the silence once more. He sat in the void, unwilling to move. He knew once he moved he would have light to see by again. Would he see that again?

The Traveller couldn’t possibly stay there forever. He had to move at some point…

He shifted. He had to go find the source of those screams…

He stood up, touching the ground as little as he could manage. The soft glow of his fingertips illuminated little. However, they provided just enough light that the Traveller could see that the blood spread away in a trail.

He took a step. He resolved that he would follow the trail to its source. He would deal with whatever memories he found there.

The Traveller heard a door being thrown open. A light flooded the darkness.

“Oh…Darkling…Please…Darkling…Please…”

The Traveller stared at Bakura, standing in the blinding white light of a doorway which suddenly appeared where he had left the last one. Bakura stooped down and gathered the boy up in his arms. The Traveller watched as the man cradled the boy and carefully carried him inside.

Quickly, the Traveller ran into the room, behind Bakura.

The red ooze was gone from the room. A soft glow clung to everything. A gentle feeling permeated everything. Every edge was softened.

The Traveller watched as Bakura set to work. The caretaker tucked the boy into the little bed. He dressed his wounds tenderly. Time seemed to pass in fits and starts as the memory of the boy passed to and from consciousness. A halo and a pair of angelic wings appeared and disappeared upon Bakura as dream and memory became more and more entangled.

+…+

Pegasus smiles, a wavering and thin smile, as he watches Bakura hold the boy- Young Seto’s.

“Please…kill…me…”

The words crackle out of the beaten boy and once more the world stops.

Pegasus stands up straighter and glances at the walls, on guard, prepared, this time.

However, there is nothing oozing through.

 

“I’m sorry my little Darkling.”

His eye returns to the bed. He takes a cautious step closer.

Young Seto’s head turns on the bed. He looks at Bakura. Carefully, Pegasus steps closer, leaning in, as far as he dares, to make sure he hears everything.

“You didn’t come…I called…and called…”

Bakura’s words come slowly, full of pain, as if choked out, “I’m sorry, my Darkling! I couldn’t come to help you. I-”

“Did… you know…?”

Pegasus feels himself freeze. His head hovers between Young Seto’s and Bakura’s. For a moment, he thinks that the memory had frozen again. However, the sound of Young Seto’s labored breathing continues. The world has not frozen but then why isn’t there an answer?

Pegasus turns to look at Bakura’s face.

Bakura’s mouth doesn’t move. Tears stream freely from his eyes. Drop after drop chases their predecessor down his cheeks. But his lips don’t move. The silence spreads out mercilessly.

“I hate you.”

+…+

Young Seto’s words echo in the darkness. The room suddenly disappeared and the Traveller found himself bent over nothing. Staring at nothing.

 

Hollow inside, the Traveller shuffled around the darkness. Questions filled his mind to bursting. 

What had he seen? 

What more would he see while he was here? 

Was this a sign of a mind ready to come back? 

…Or ready to leave this life for the hereafter?

_So much blood…_

Vaguely aware of it, the Traveller shuffled in the direction of some small sounds.

 

Unexpectedly, he found himself standing in a bedroom.

+…+

Pegasus looks around. He finds himself afraid that he has wandered once more into Bakura’s bedroom. He blinks as he realizes that it isn’t. This is a much more spare bedroom. The books, herbs, jars, and bottles are absent. Gone, as well, is Young Seto.

Standing, carefully arranging things in a large bag, is a taller, grown up Seto- as grown up as he would ever be allowed to become. Eighteen years old, he towers over his caretaker.

Pegasus' eye falls on the caretaker.

The glow is gone from Bakura. He is no longer the large protector. He is just a small man. Not just shorter, he is smaller in every way. Shades of grey cling to him. Lightest grey encircles his head, deepening as it cascades down to his feet. Pegasus' eye follows the black…a trail of it leads from the man back out of the doorway.

Gingerly, Pegasus walks closer to the two. A growing cold seeps out of Bakura, growing colder with every step Pegasus took towards him.

_Betrayal._

Bakura is no longer a safe beacon in a dark world. He had become just another dark thing in a place that Seto is hurrying to leave.

“You are free! You are no longer Bound! Yami has freed you!” Bakura’s grey lips say the words with a wide smile but Pegasus can hear the crackling of ice with every word.

_A cold comfort…_

Bakura’s joy is painful to look at. Pegasus looks away. He turns his head towards Seto. Seto is still putting things in a bag. Grey bits of clothing disappear into the bag. A few books. He focuses on his task. Ignoring the man.

Pegasus takes a step closer to Seto and leans over the bed to look up at Seto’s downturned face. His eyes are riveted to his task. His singular focus doesn’t allow Bakura to exist.

“Aren’t you happy?” Bakura’s words crackle again.

Slowly, Seto’s eyes turn to look at Bakura, “Get out. I’m busy.”

Pegasus glances at Bakura, the deeper grey creeps further up. The black creeps further.

Sadness bleeds into Bakura’s joy, “Oh… I just wanted to say…goodbye and maybe see you off.”

Quickly, Pegasus looks at Seto. Nothingness greeted the Traveller.

“Get out of my sight.”

+…+

The words echoed out through the darkness.

The Traveller stood in the void once more and felt the growing ache within himself. There was a hollowness to everything.

_So much pain… so much hurt… I never-_

 

“You lied!”

A hysterical shriek shakes the Traveller.

_No…_

This was not an unfamiliar sound. He knew those words. _No!_ They rang out and slammed into him. He shuddered. _No…_ This was not a memory he wanted to discover. This was not a memory that he would seek out. This was a memory that he would ignore. He would run away from this one and find another one to aid him in his search.

_No…_

The Traveller turned quickly to run away. Any direction would do. He would find some other memory. Just-

The Traveller took a step and found himself suddenly in an office.

+…+

_NOOOOO!!_ He wails. He turns quickly but finds a bookcase on a wall. He tries to reach back through. His hand meets solid matter and it stings.

“ _You never came back for me! You never saved me! You never protected me! You broke EVERY ONE of your promises!_ ”

The hysterical words cut through Pegasus. Every nerve in his body sings as though struck by lightening. He stares at the books and trembles.

“You got _your_ freedom, packed your bags and LEFT!”

The words cut through him. They bore into him, deeper and deeper, hungrily seeking out his heart. _No… why… stop…_

“I’m sorry, Max, I-”

Seto’s gentle words stung. Pegasus clutches at his chest.

“ _You left me to suffer and rot with Malik! You didn’t even TRY! You walked away and never looked back!”_ Each word booms like thunder and sizzles like a raging fire.

_NOOO! STOP!!_ Pegasus desperately holds his palms to his ears. Futile and foolish. Trying to dampen the words which fill everything.

_NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!_

He knows the words which will follow. Desperate, he tries not to hear them. Desperately hoping with every fiber of himself, that this moment will not be the moment he remembers. He won’t-

“ _I had to finally KILL HIM! I had to do it because I finally woke up and realized that you were”_

_NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!_

_“NEVER”_

_PLEASE! WHY!_

_“COMING”_

_PLEASE!_ _SHUT ME UP!!_

_“BACK!”_

+…+

Pegasus fell out of his chair. Blood rocketed out of his mouth. He wretched and vomited on the bedroom floor.

A cool hand settled on his shoulder. It shifted and rubbed him back.

“Sssh, there there, Max. It’s alright. You’ve pushed yourself far enough.”

“No-” Pegasus gagged and spit. “No, I have to get his consciousness back.”

“You already have.” Bakura spoke softly and Pegasus lifted his head to look at the form lying on the bed.

Seto’s head shifted. His mouth moved slowly.

“I’m sorry. I said those things. I made all of those promises. For all of the wrongs I have done. I am so sorry. I wish I could fix it all. I wish I had done the right thing. I never wanted to hurt either of you.” Sleepy words floated from his mouth. Each syllable was filled with apology.

Pegasus opened his mouth to speak but heaved.

“Hush now, you have fulfilled more promises than you have broken.” Bakura’s soft words filled the room and his hand continued to glide in gentle circles on Pegasus' back.

Pegasus wiped at his mouth and pulled himself back into the chair. He looked down at Seto’s face. Pain and apology infused every visible feature but over top them seemed to lay a shroud of serenity. Seto was not speaking to them. He was speaking to the ghosts he thought were there to meet him.

“I should have been the one to kill Malik.”

Pegasus opened his mouth but Bakura puts his hand on his shoulder to silence him. Pegasus glanced at him and saw him shake his head.

“I should have freed us all. I was going to lead us all into the real world. We were going to be happy. Instead, I was so blinded by my own selfish concerns.”

Clenching and unclenching his fists, Pegasus longed to jump up. He wanted to grab Seto and hug him. He wanted to tell him, as many times as it took to convince him, that there was no way he could have done any better than he had. He had never been selfish in his life and it was the selfishness of other which made him feel that he had failed anyone.

“I fled my own problems and forgot others’. I was a bad friend- no!”

Bakura’s grip on Pegasus' shoulder tightened. Pegasus didn’t even noticed that his body had tensed, ready to jump up.

“Max was a brother to me!” The words, so resolute, spoken with the strength of an undeniable truth.

“I was an awful brother and an even worse son.” Pegasus screwed up his face against the tears that would blind him.

“I’m sorry for all of the deeds and now… I’m sorry for never saying these words when they might have made a difference.”

Pegasus' throat tightened. He wanted to fling himself at Seto. He wanted to grab him. He wanted to say, to yell, words that were all a tumbling avalanche in his heart. So many emotions. So much love. So much worry. So much fear. So many reassurances.

Pegasus' words would not organize themselves. Bakura’s calm and gentle words came, instead.

“We love you. We understand. You didn’t let us down. You were little more than a child when you made those promises. How could you have known what would be required of you to fulfill them? When Max found you, you were there for him. When you were asked to rescue two children you didn’t even know, you fought a monster and saved them. You have not let anyone down.”

Pegasus wanted to look at Bakura’s face as he spoke those words. He wanted to look at Seto’s face as he heard them. But everything was red. He blinked tears from his eye but not fast enough.

“I just wish I could have told them…”

He swallowed a hard lump in his throat and finally the words came from Pegasus, “We’re listening. We hear you. You have not yet reached the end of your road, Seto.” His hands spasmed and shook. He wanted, more than anything in the world, to reach out and touch Seto. He wanted to take up his hand. He wanted to let him know that this was not his end. This was not his final confession to his family.

“Yes, my Darkling, you have not yet joined the end.”

Through his tears, Pegasus saw slight movements. He hastily scrubbed the tears from his face. Bakura’s hand left his shoulder and Pegasus scrambled to stand up.

Seto’s eye opened. He turned his head. Ripples of recognition flowed over his face. “Ba…kura? Max?” he tried to speak louder and the words came out as a hoarse whisper.

“Yes.” Bakura spoke first.

“We’re here, Seto.” Pegasus tried not to sound desperate. He tried not to grab at Seto’s hand. He tried to just be calm. For Seto.

The eye looked at them, unfocused. A tear formed in its corner. “I love you both.”

“I love you too. We both love you so much, Seto!” Desperation was creeping into his voice but Bakura’s hand gave his arm a quick squeeze.

“He’s sleeping.” Bakura leaned over Seto and wiped some hair away from his face. “He’s resting but you brought him back to us.”

Pegasus slumped into the chair beside the bed. Every ounce of strength seemed to leave him in an instant. He had not even noticed how tense he had been, ready to spring forward. As if he could jump at Seto.

_What? Grab his consciousness back? Tear away all of his pain and self doubt somehow?_

_Foolishness._

“Sssh. You, too.” Pegasus looked up at Bakura, who was standing over him. “You need your rest, as well. You still have some nasty burns which need to heal and you just exhausted yourself bringing him back to us. Go sleep and I’ll watch over him.”

“No, I can-”

“No. You need to leave this room and sleep. Take yourself down the hall and you can sleep in a guest room. No arguments.” Bakura helped Pegasus stand up from the chair. “You two, did the heavy lifting. Let me do the only thing I’m good at.” Bakura reached up and wiped some blood from Pegasus' chin. “Taking care of you boys.”

+…+

Pegasus closed the bedroom door behind himself and shuffled down the hallway. He made his way, shakily, down the staircase. A bedroom was not what he wanted.

Pegasus staggered into the office and closed the door behind himself. With every step, he felt his energy draining quicker.

He fell into the chair and put his arms on the desk. He laid his head down and closed his eye. This room was where he wanted to be. Here in the room he knew Seto must have spent most of his time. Surrounded by his books. His pens. His work. In Seto’s sanctuary was where Pegasus needed to be at that moment. If he couldn’t be by Seto’s side. This was where he needed to be.

Bakura was correct.

Darkness crept around Pegasus' mind as sleep came to claim him.

Bakura would be better able to minister to Seto without him hovering around.

 

As the soft blanket of sleep fell over Pegasus' mind, he saw Bakura’s bloody clothes. He wondered if he had somehow managed to get some blood on Bakura when he was sick.

_So much blood…_

~

Memories in soft whispers and laughter, in darkness and pain. Memories in the final end. Memories reviewed and revealed before a new beginning.

Our memories are the earth and fertilizer which Life uses to grow Hopes and Regrets. They are the remnants of moments lost to time. They are the echoes and afterimages of who we have been and the hints of who we will be in the future.

But these are deep thoughts for another time. For now, there should only be much deserved sleep and rest for our champions.


	5. Those Who Swim in Darkness…

There is no rest for the wicked. Even less for those who have been corrupted by the wicked.

~

A scream tore through the air. Pegasus' head shot up from the surface of the desk. Before he even realized it, his legs were carrying him down the hall and up the stairs.

He ran into Seto’s bedroom but he only saw Seto’s sleeping body on the bed and Bakura, finally exhausted, on a chair beside his bed, his hand holding one of Seto’s. Pegasus quickly closed the door and ran to the next door but only found a boy, still sound asleep. He continued on down the softly lit hallway.

Words were mingled with the screams. Muttered. Howled. Frantically repeated over and over again. With each step the words became more and more layered. Prayers. Fears. Paranoia. Anger. Nonsense. Panic. The words were becoming more and more indistinguishable from each other. They pounded at Pegasus' mind as he came closer.

Pegasus' hand reached out to a bedroom doorknob. He gripped it. His head was full to bursting with the screams, whimpers, cries, and whispers.

The door opened inwards and Pegasus froze.

On the floor, a scrawny girl, caked in a patchwork of dirt and ashes, was fighting to get a hold of a little boy. The boy’s hair stuck out in a million different angles. He was not quite as dirty as the girl… But dripping down his face… _Fresh blood…_

A gash in the boy’s forehead. Claw marks. Red blossoms of bruises. A froth was dripping from the boy’s chin as his mouth spasmed. Rapidly, his lips worked as if trying to say a million words at once. His wide eyes stared, haunted by some relentless daemon. He was trying frantically to break free of the girl’s grip.

Pegasus' eye widened. It glanced at the bedpost. Spatters of blood answered where the gash had come from. Ragged slivers of flesh under the boy’s fingernails spoke to the horror of what he had done to himself.

The girl tried to shush the boy, unaware of the entrance of another person. Despite her only slightly larger size, she was struggling to keep a firm hold on the boy. She desperately focused on the task of saving him from himself.

A little hand slipped free. Pegasus watched in horror as the little fingers became hooks and darted towards the face, towards an eye socket.

_Sleep!_

The boy’s hand fell. He slumped forward. The girl’s head lolled and her sleepy eyes looked at Pegasus. Her head fell forward. And the two sank sideways.

The words stopped. The screaming. The whispering. The praying. The gibbering. Everything suddenly stopped. A hurricane of thoughts suddenly ceased.

Pegasus reeled for a few moments, like a person who had just stepped in from a storm. He braced himself against the doorway.

Which child had it been?

Had it been both of them?

What were they thinking?

What happened?

Curiosity reared up but exhaustion tamped it down. These were all mysteries that he could pick through… in the morning.

Pegasus stumbled into the room and kneeled down. He tried to lift the boy but the girl’s grasp was too firm. He wrapped them both in his arms and stood up. He stumbled back for a moment, shocked at how light they were.

He placed the two children in the bed and slumped down onto the floor beside it. It was all too much to dress the boy’s wounds. It was too much to find a chair. Much too much to go back to the office.

Sleep overtook Pegasus. The mysteries and troubles were piling up faster than his mind could pick them apart, but he would begin to peel them apart and examine them… tomorrow.

+…+

The Traveller stood in an unfamiliar landscape. There was black as far as the eye could see. Dotting the void were shards of vibrant shining red. The Traveller looked around. He took a step. He heard movement. The sound of a soft sloshing made him look down.

Soft gold wavered under ripples. The Traveller lifted his foot and saw black roll and drip from his foot. He set his foot down and watched the ripples roll as far as the gold illuminated. His brow furrowed and he took a step.

He looked down at the blackness and the up at a shard of red. It called to him. Something solid for him to investigate. It hung a little ways away. A few steps and the Traveller would be close enough to get a good look at it. He lifted his foot. He took a step towards the shard.

The foot didn’t meet solid ground. It plunged into the inky depths and the Traveller pitched forward. Desperately, his arms flapped but there was nothing to grab onto. Something tugged at his heel.

He fell into the black and it greedily swallowed him up.

Blackness filled him eagerly. The shining red was quickly muted and then obliterated.

“One to bend.”

Something grabbed the Traveller’s arm and he was dragged up. Away from safety. The Traveller frantically tried to fight but the grip was an unbreakable vice. He looked around and saw the only beacon of light he had ever known in the wretched darkness of his life. A dirty angry face.

_The girl…_

She stared at him, desperate to get him back. Her desperation was echoed in the Traveller. He wanted- no! _Need_ ed to be back with her. She could protect him. He didn’t know what he needed to be protected from. This was some new evil that was carrying him away. This was something which would undoubtedly be so much worse than anything he had ever known. He had to get back to her… What if she left forever? What if-

“One to break.”

The Traveller watched as the girl was lifted up by some shadowy brute.

 

With a gasp, the Traveller’s head broke the surface of the black. He flailed about. His arms desperately tried to obey the mixed signals of his mind. This ocean of black couldn’t be real. It surrounded him, intent on invading him. He simply had to remain calm. This ocean of black was going to drown him. He could no longer be drowned. Several certainties fought with each other.

The Traveler’s frantic splashing filled the void.

Suddenly a flash of gold startled him. He felt his hand slap something solid. He hit it with his hand again. He slapped it with his other hand. He quickly scrambled and groped, pulling himself up onto the solid thing.

 

The Traveller stared into the darkness. Fear still gripped him. This was like no place he had travelled before. He sat on the solid… path? until his fear was overpowered by his curiosity.

Very carefully, the Traveller felt around himself. Small splashes of golden light sprang up where his fingers touched the platform. He watched as the light slowly faded. With immense care he began to shift onto his hands and knees.

He touched the solid ground with his hand and drew a line with his fingertip, dragging it to his right. The golden line appeared for about the length of two of his hands and then abruptly disappeared. His finger met no resistance. The Traveller touched the end of the line and then dragged it to his left, retracing the first line and continuing. The line continued for about one of his hand’s breadth past the beginning of the first line. His finger disappeared for a moment. He pulled his finger back and sat back on his heels.

_Only three hands wide…_

The path was narrow. But how far did it go? The Traveller contemplated the void around himself. He leaned forward and drew a line, with his finger, from the middle of the slowly diminishing line. He pushed his finger forward. A golden trail eluded to a path which continued forward.

The Traveller crawled forward. He put his hand down in front of himself. His palm left a golden print… but his fingers met nothing. He pulled his hand back and placed it over the glow. Carefully, the Traveller moved his hand to the right. Nothing met his hand. He tried again, in the opposite direction and found more of the path. 

_Not a straight path…_

The Traveller stood up and began to shuffle his feet. This was a strange and uncertain place. A path which seemed to hinder more than help. Blackness which swallowed anyone who wasn’t careful. But what was in the black?

_What is this black… sea?… hiding?_

The Traveller swept his foot slightly to the left when his toes met nothing before him. He turned and continued on.

A red shard hung a little ways away.

If the black sea held strange visions, what was in the red?

The Traveller stood a few inches from a shard. He stared at it. It hung in the air, nearly a third of his height tall and maybe a half of him across. It was a wicked looking thing. Its glassy surfaced reflected nothing. Its jagged edges looked as if it would cut him viciously if he didn’t handle it with care.

This was unlike anything he had ever seen. What could this thing symbolism? What did it hold?

_Why these shards?_

The Traveller didn’t realize, until it was too late, that his hand was reaching towards it.

+…+

Pegasus suddenly finds himself standing, not in the black sea, but in a bedroom. Luxurious fabrics are draped about. Soft lighting fills the space. Candles stand in candelabras and in an ornate chandelier. A fire crackles contentedly in a large fireplace. Plush rugs cushion a wooden floor.

“Oh…look what you’ve done…” The words roll out in a purr.

Suddenly, it feels as if the blood has frozen in Pegasus' veins. Everything comes into sharp focus. His head snaps in the direction of the words.

_No!_

There, in all his glory. Still animated. Still terrible. Still terrifying. Yami.

Pegasus' eye grows wide. For a moment he forgets that this can not be real. For an instant he feels himself, as if once again a little boy, standing in front of a monster.

Yami is bent over, examining something. His back is to Pegasus. For a moment, Pegasus thinks about he how should attack him while his back is turned. He could jump upon him and tear him apart. The monster had not accepted death but he would finish him. He can’t allow-

Yami straightens up and takes a step to the side.

Pegasus looks at a little boy, sitting in an upholstered chair.

_A memory…? A memory…_

The certainty of safety slowly creeps up over Pegasus, a cloak gently pulled up around oneself against the bitter chill of a deathly fear.

Yami glides away. Padding off to some darkened part of the chamber, out of the scope of Yuugi’s memory.

The boy stares at Pegasus.

Pegasus blinks. He turns to look over his shoulder. What was the boy staring at? It couldn’t be him. He must be focused on…

_Nothing…?_

Pegasus found nothing of interest on the wall behind him. He frowns.

His eye flicks in the direction that Yami had walked. The monster is busy looking for something. Pegasus takes a step towards the boy. Then a few more. He bends down and looks into the boy’s face.

The boy’s eyes are still staring out at something… but they are not seeing.

Pegasus' brow furrows. His eye searches the boy’s face. It is pale and somewhat gaunt. The gentle glow of the candlelight does little to soften the sharp angles of his malnourished face. The light plays over his face but his eyes don’t react to the ebb and movement of the light. They stare, fixed. His pupils were locked, dilated. They don’t move. They don’t focus.

A thin line of drool catches the light and Pegasus' gaze falls upon it.

A glistening thread of saliva crawls from the corner of the boy’s lips. A bead of clear liquid pools at his chin and falls. Pegasus' eye follows it. It falls onto the thin nightgown the boy was dressed in. He looks longer, staring at the cream colored fabric. Just then, a log cracked in the fireplace and the light flared for a few moments. Pegasus saw that on the boy’s arms, the fabric was white. He looks back down at the boy’s lap.

Spread out in a disgusting pool was the discolored, cream colored, fabric which had been absorbing drop after drop of drool. A drop falls and is slowly assimilated.

Pegasus tilts his head and sees the little foot hanging, limply, out of the bottom of the nightgown. Running down to the toe, gathering, and dripping was more drool.

His eye flies back to the boy’s face. The purple eyes are still dull and fixed. Staring at nothing.

_Locked away inside…_

“Now, let me clean you up.” Yami’s soft voice rolls over Pegasus.

With a jolt, Pegasus jumps back sharply. Even with the knowledge that this Yami is just a memory, unable to hurt him, he has no desire to risk feeling the touch of Yami once more.

Yami wipes the drool from the boy’s chin with his hand. He produces a washcloth and wipes the boy’s mouth. Then he gently turns the boy’s face.

The light from the fireplace illuminates a savage hole in the side of the boy’s head.

Pegasus reels back in horror.

_How could Yami have-_

“You’ve got to be more careful with my prized possession.”

Pegasus feels his foot slip. He feels himself tip backwards.

“You belong to me now. You can’t break my things like this.” Yami’s insidious words slither from his lips as he lifts the washcloth to the boy’s wound.

+…+

Pegasus jolted awake. He felt something in his hand. He quickly pulled his hand away.

In the near dark, he stared at his hand. The soft light in the hallway reached into the room. Spots of darkness were on his hand. He stared at them, still dazed. His nostrils flared and something within him solved the mystery before his mind could comprehend the question.

_Blood…?_

Pegasus blinked and looked from his hand to the bed. The boy’s blood covered fingers lay near the edge of the bed… Where his hand had been.

Crawling, Pegasus made his way back to the doorway. He clung to the doorway and dragged himself up. Weary, he reached behind himself and pulled the door closed. Heedless of his own movements, he made his way back down the hallway.

The hunger was awakened in him. It worried at him like a hungry beast chewing on the bars of its cell. It urged him to find something to sate it. It threatened to shake its cage and howl.

It fought but it was no match for the all-encompassing weariness driving Pegasus. That exhaustion smothered the hunger like a thick blanket thrown over the cage, muffling its protests and rattling.

 

_Nothing has gone to plan…_

Pegasus dragged himself, once more, into Seto’s office. He closed the door behind himself and began to slump against it. Somehow the desk looked farther away this time. He stumbled back towards it. What little bits of his resolve which still remained helped him cross the room. He swayed a moment as his fingers brushed the corner of it. Something moved but Pegasus' sleep addled mind only dimly registered it.

_I neglected to plan for these things…_

This was not the happy ending he had foolishly imagined.

Pegasus more melted than sat in the chair. The black of sleep covered his mind and he thought, for the instant, before he was swallowed up by exhaustion, of the path through the black sea.

_A treacherous path…in darkness…_

_~_

Dreams are the maps our minds draw. They connect points we have already visited to those which we imagine. Past, present, and future are scattered plots. Like stars thrown into the sky. We, each, travel across that sky and visit those stars in the hopes that we will discover fuller constellations. We follow those strange maps in the hopes that we will discover new lands full of possibilities, or old lands full of saved memories.

For the Traveller, the sky is vast and the map is obscured. Each mind is not his. The maps he examines are not his own. The skies he traverses are not like his own. Still, he has confidence in his ability, his years of experience. The dreams, the mind, the map, and the skies of others have always been quite similar. There has always been a pattern. A rhyme. A reason… 

However… these minds…


	6. Dreams and Other Fragile Comforts

A child’s laughter is one of the sweetest things our ears can behold. Their smiles fill us with an immeasurable joy. It is the happiness of these small pure creatures which brings light to any dimness or darkness.

That is what we think…until we are confronted with the heartbreaking exceptions. Those children who have not known light. Those creatures which have been swallowed, corrupted, and broken by darkness. Their laughter chills our blood. Their smiles make our hearts ache. For, there is no light from them. There is only a dimness and darkness which speaks to the unspeakable horrors which have colored them so deeply with shades of black.

~

A sea stretches out as far as the eye can see. It reaches the horizon and spreads even further. Waves dance in the glow of the moon. They pull back from the shore and rear up, as if trying to just grace their shining companion. The waves rise and fall, rolling out onto the beach, laughing and causing playful chaos to what little things they catch in their wet grip.

A red tear rolls quietly down a pale cheek.

Pegasus sits on the beach. His feet do not feel the sand beneath them. His eye is fixed upon the dark, distant, horizon. His hair is not touched by the breeze. He listens to the rolling waves. His skin does not feel the chill of the night air. He listens to the soft scratching of the sand shifting. His heart aches as he listens to the sobbing beside him.

A boy sits, looking at the same ocean but seeing an utterly different sight.

This lonely beach is one of the first places that Pegasus had visited after he killed Malik. The first place he had gone to alone. The first place he had gone to without thinking about asking permission. This nocturnal scene is the moment when he truly understood Seto’s words.

This was not just a beach. This was freedom.

 

The memory looks out, through stinging tears, at the ocean before it. The distant darkness, so far away, calls to him. He could sail away. He could walk out into the ocean. He could leave and go to that distant horizon. He could let the ocean swallow him up. The wind and water would erase his footprints from the sand and he would be gone.

He would never be a plaything or a pawn again. He would never be a tool. He would never be plagued by the hunger which, even in these moments, as he looks at the calm waves, rages within him. He could simply… go.

In his hand, he holds a dagger. Taken from some collection of nasty tools his wretched master had kept. He could use it to carve the foul object from his skull. He could pitch it out into the sea and then walk along the beach. He could pick a new spot and begin his walk towards the horizon. The waves would drag the object, that filthy ‘eye,’ away. The sand would bury it. Maybe some creature of the sea would fancy it as their own and take it to their nest. It wouldn’t matter anymore. It would be far away from Pegasus.

He would walk out into the ocean, far away from that ‘eye,’ and he would let the water fill him. He would open his mouth and allow it to fill his dead body with its living essence. Waves would roll within him and he would feel some life within himself again. The waves would muffle the beast within him. They would dampen its snarls. They would drown the foul thing. He would give himself, wholly, to the ocean and walk through it until… Until…

It could be an endless journey for him. Time and death were not to haunt him like others. His journey did not need to have an aim or an ending.

 

Pegasus sits, staring out at the horizon and listening to the waves as they laugh around the shore. He looks at the dark horizon, full of peaceful potential.

The memory rises, beside him, it takes several steps towards the water. A gentle wave pushes the water to roll up his shins. Pegasus watches as the memory jerks, shocked, at the feeling of the sea for the first time. He smiles as he remembers the immense joy he had felt at the sensation of sand in between his toes. That night had held many firsts for him. However, this shock of cold water is the last happy first for the evening.

Pegasus’ eye falls upon the back of his memory. He watches the knife rise, shakily.

 

 

Suddenly, the memory pitched forward. His stomach flexing, his body trying desperately to vomit but there is nothing to expel. A ringing in his ears, filling his mind with something more sensation than actual sound.

The scrape of metal ricocheting off of the inside of his skull. A split second of shock and agony drawn out. Playing again. And again. And again. 

Click. _Scrrra-ape!_

Click. _Scrrra-ape!_

Rising, as if carried by the waves from the depths of the ocean, more sounds and sensations wash over him. The sound of metal jerking and rattling, shaking and snapping. The sensation of his own screams tearing their way out of his throat. The tool looming over his eye as Malik plans his next masterful stroke. Malik’s grip on his forehead. Malik’s nails digging into his flesh, threatening to crack his skull.

The red and black darkness which swallowed half of his world, forevermore.

The waves roll in and crash into the memory. They pull sheets of sand from under him. The sand is shifted and sucked away. The waves care not for his agony. They greedily work to sink him. The ocean has heard his promise of self sacrifice and it impatiently reaches wave after wave to take what it was so carelessly promised.

 

_Forevermore…_ Half of his world will always be shrouded in darkness. _Forever…_

 

What use is there in walking into the waves? What would truly change for him? There is no way that he could once again be able to see the world in full. There is no way, even filled with the roll of the ocean, that he could be living once more. The hunger will not be silenced under the ocean, it is not some real, living, beast one could drown. It is a corruption which has been forcibly injected into him. It is not something he can simply leave behind.

Just like that wretched ‘eye.’

Is he to mutilate himself as Malik had done? Is he to carve as Malik has done?

Is he to hope that some other monster does not fish this horrid thing up from its watery resting place? Is he to hope that there is not some other child abandoned in the world, who will find themselves marked by a monster who wishes to posses the power of this thing? Is he to hope that by ridding himself of this wretched burden, this hollow existence, he isn’t dooming some other poor unfortunate to share in his fate?

 

Pegasus smiles. He watches as the memory stands up, shakily. Its arms spread out as it tries to steady itself on the insubstantial sand. The memory, the boy- more man than boy if all was told- stands on the beach and looks out at the dark water.

 

He could throw away all of his worries. He could pitch the ‘eye’ into the waves and divorce it from his fate. He could walk out into the water. He could try to foolishly run away from all of his worries.

 

Pegasus looks away from the memory. He turns his head away, wishing himself away from this moment.

Alas, he isn’t fast enough.

 

_I could be selfish, like Seto._

+...+

The last thread of the memory was pulled from the Traveller but the notes of that old thought still rang within him.

+…+

“Max… Max, it’s time for you to wake up.” Pegasus was very dimly aware of a voice coming through the haze of sleep and dreams. “You have to wake up and eat.” A hand shook his shoulder gently.

Pegasus sat up and looked around, confused and lost for a few moments. This was not his office… This was not his desk…

Soft whispers of thoughts came to him, unfamiliar thoughts.

“You slept in Seto’s office.”

Pegasus blinked and turned to look up at Bakura, standing next to him.

“Seto is still resting but there is no more rest for us.” Bakura smiled. “You need to eat and then I think we should wake Yuugi and Anzu.”

 

 

Pegasus sat in a chair and looked at the two sleeping children on the bed. The girl still held fast to the boy, even in her sleep. Blood still clung to his head. They slept soundly. Too soundly. In his disoriented state he had given them more a state of unconsciousness than a restful slumber.

He leaned forward and focused on the boy.

Purple eyes blinked for a moment and then flew open. Wide, the eyes stared through Pegasus. Pupils dilated the boy’s mouth opened.

His scream was cut short.

‘ _Sleep!_ ’

The boy’s eyelids struggled and then closed. His muscles relaxed. Pegasus looked at the boy’s hands, caught midway through their struggle to attack his face once more.

Pegasus' jaw tightened. He looked at the girl.

Eyelids quickly opened and blue eyes looked around. The girl slowly sat up. Her tense muscles fighting the movement. She looked at the boy. Her eyes widened. She began to shake the boy, “Yuugi! YUUGI! WAKE-“

‘ _Sleep!_ ’

Shaking, Pegasus sat back in his chair. He watched the girl’s eyes struggle to stay open. The girl slowly fell back on the bed. He stared at the two children. His shaking hands came together and he began to wring them.

How could he wake them up if they panicked when they regained their consciousness? How could he wake them up if all the boy did was hurt himself and wail? He couldn’t wake up the girl alone, she would not accept the boy’s sleep…

His eye darted over the sleeping forms. He looked at the boy’s face. The blood was still caked on his face. Flesh still clung to his fingernails. Perhaps if he could clean the boy up first…? Yes. Obviously! He would clean up the boy and then gently wake the two children. The girl would see that the boy was not hurt and she would be able to help calm the boy.

The fatigue was beginning to make Pegasus dull. He swallowed his laughter as he left the bedroom.

 

A flake of dark red fell into a bowl of water. It sat for a moment then crumbled and dissolved. Slowly, a washcloth was dabbed at a little face. More flakes of blood mixed with droplets of water on flesh. The droplets were quickly and careful mopped up with the washcloth.

Pegasus went about his work with a painful care. He desired not to cause anymore pain than he already had. If he had planned better… If he had not been so addled when he sent them into sleep… If he had thought to clean the blood initially…

Thoughts filled his mind, shaming his foolishness and chastising him for frailties. The thoughts _almost_ managed to drown out the hissing of the beast. It would be so easy. To just bend his mouth to their little necks. Their deep sleep would keep them from feeling it. His fangs were sharp. They’d sink into that thin flesh. He could do them one last kindness. He could remove them from their pained existence. It would be the kindest fate. No more nightmares. No more screaming. No more pain.

The washcloth removed blood, soot, and dirt.

It would be so easy. They were so little. Just as Max had been. Just as Seto had been. Just like they had been, these children were alive.

_No._

Pegasus stood up and walked away from the bedside, with his bowl of filthy water and the washcloth. The kindest thing he could do for them would be to let them live so that they could have the chance to know freedom. The kindest thing he could do would be to show them that their lives were no longer filled with darkness. He could pull back the curtain for them and show them how wonderful life could be.

 

Pegasus sat in the chair next to the bed where the two children were sleeping.

He stared at them and slowly closed his eye. He focused on the darkness of sleep. Slowly, he reached out and pulled away a thin sheet. A fraction of light was barely discernible. He reached forth and pulled away another sheet. Sheet by sheet, fractions of light multiplied. Slowly light came in to remove the darkness of sleep.

Pegasus opened his eye and looked at bed. The children stirred. Soft sounds came from them as their eyes began to open. He stood up and looked down at them.

Purple eyes and blue eyes slowly opened and looked around. Thin bodies began to slowly pull themselves up to sit on the bed. The girl’s hand reached out for the boy. The boy looked at her, dully for a moment.

The boy’s scream ripped through the quiet like the crack of thunder. The girl grabbed at his flailing arms. She cried out desperately, trying to break through to his hysterical mind.

‘ _SLEEP!_ ’

Pegasus fell down into the chair. 

A groaning growl rose up and Pegasus stared at the children. They were starving while he dragged them from their slumber and then plunged them back into it. He was wasting time and they were wasting away. He was hurting them over and over again!

‘This was not the plan! I didn’t plan for this! I didn’t think!’ His fingers clenched his hair. He wanted to tear at it in his frustration. He wanted to howl. He wanted to scream and cry. ‘Can they- _Can we ever be free of Yami’s corruption!? Even DEAD he still taunts and tortures us!_ ’

An utter failure. 

_How can I…Why…What should…_ The questions piled up and the weight of them pressed down on Pegasus. Frustrated and exhausted, his hands fell and he buried his face in them.

“Max…” A hand rested on his shoulder. “Max, you are trying to fight something which may be too much.” Pegasus started to reply, “Sssh. I don’t mean to say that you are not capable.” Bakura’s hand began to stroke Pegasus' hair. “You are just asking too much of yourself…and these children. You- we are all in a bad way.” Pegasus' shoulders drooped further as he contemplated the hollow hopelessness.

“I can’t let them stay asleep…” Pegasus mumbled into his palms.

“I know. But how about a compromise for now?” Pegasus pulled his face form his hands and looked up at Bakura, confused. “They do not need to be fully _awake_ just yet. They just need to be able to function a bit so they can eat and we can wash them up.”

“But how…?” Pegasus looked at the children.

“Give them a pleasant dream. Give them the gift of a softer reality for a while. Let us attend to their basic needs for now.”

“A pleasant dream?” Pegasus looked up but found Bakura already moving away. “What kind…?”

“I have faith in you, Max. I know that even after all this time you still remember some of the stories I would tell you, _Pegasus_.” Bakura smiled over his shoulder before slipping out of the room, closing the door behind himself.

+…+

The Painter stood in a landscape of black. He looked down at his feet for a moment and saw the ripples as they rolled away from his foot, as it shifted. He sniffed in annoyance and then reached into an inside pocket of his jacket.

The Painter’s hand reappeared. With it came a length of wood. He shifted his grip and pulled with two hands. Wood emerged from his jacket and suddenly a band of metal. A manicured plume of soft sandy colored bristles followed the metal band. The Painter smiled and regarded his trusty tool.

_Now, time to create something beautiful!_

The Painter set about his work diligently. He created a gentle landscape, with a solid ground. He populated it with fantastical beast. Each one gentle and fair. He painted a sky above and ground below, everything in soft colors. A tree here and there. A bush of flowers. A burrow of happy bunnies. A herd of flying horses. The world was a refuge, soft and gentle in every way.

The Painter looked out, through a spot which had not felt the touch of his brush yet. Darkness was seen through the window. A shard of red hung. It glinted, winking threateningly at the Painter. 

The Painter clucked his tongue and lifted his brush to finish his task before moving on to his next canvas.

+…+

Pegasus opened his eye and blinked a few times. For a few moments, he saw the afterimages of all of the flowers, trees, and fluffy creatures which were now installed in the thoughts of the two children. He sat, expectantly for a few moments, waiting for some awful sign of a fresh failure. However, there was no screaming, no crying, no violence…

The boy rolled over in his sleep and as his head turned Pegasus saw a faint smile.

“Now, it’s time to get them out of bed.” Pegasus stood up and whispered. “I’m sorry, children, but I think it’s past time for you to open your eyes.” His shaking hand reached out for the boy’s shoulder.

The boy mumbled and Pegasus froze for an instant. Eyelids fluttered. Pegasus clenched his jaw. Purple eyes blinked up at him.

The girl stirred, she reached out for the boy.

“Anzu, it’s time to wake up.” The boy’s little voice whispered.

Blue eyes opened slowly. Two smiles greeted each other and then looked up at Pegasus.

 

“Thank you, Max. I think I ought to handle it from here.” Pegasus stood frozen, watching as Bakura came and began to speak to the children. He smiled at them and they smiled at him. He told them about getting washed up and eating. They fidgeted and laughed. Bakura gathered them up lovingly in his arms and walked out of the room.

 

Pegasus stood, rooted to the spot. A tremor ran through his limbs. He couldn’t stop seeing their big eyes.

‘So dull…so _dead…_ ’

~

Two dreamers play in a world apart from the darkness they had accepted as their world. A Painter watches them and wonders about the consequences of the fantasy he has given them. A Traveller watches and contemplates how he will traverse a map so obscured with fantasy. A man watches and feels an ache in his quiet breast.


	7. Blind in Daylight

Two little dreamers. Two broken little souls. Shielded by bright colors. Wrapped in soft visions. Time marched on and they danced in the sun. The played, and forgot to fear the darkness. Separated from the horrors which stalked the dark of their minds.

The darkness, however, did not forget about them. Darkness stalked them. Waiting for its moment. Waiting to slither forward. Waiting to pounce. Darkness was _not quite_ with its banishment. It contented itself with waiting for its moment. Unfortunately, time went on and it grew impatient for its chance to drown them once more with bitter memories.

Dreams can propel us and insulate us. They can push us to reach further than we thought we could go. They can keep us safe from the cruelty of a harsh world. However, they must always be tempered with reality.

~

His work was done. The Traveler did not walk through dreams, inspecting memories. The Painter put away his tools. Now it was time for everyone to enjoy their ‘Happily Ever After.’

Pegasus watched as the two children played. He saw them cleaned up and dressed in borrowed clothes. He marveled at how little changes had so much impact. Clean clothes and proper meals transformed two sad little waifs into real children.

He watched as they were happily accepted by Mokuba, the boy of the house. He felt a warmth spread over him as the three played together. The boy’s love budded and blossomed for them and their love blossomed for him.

He watched as Bakura watched over the three children. Their happiness was mirrored in him, reflected and redoubled. Finally, the slave could be a person, nurturing his charges- his children. A welcome transformation from his former life, always tending wounds but never able to protect against harm.

He watched as Seto mended. As he healed enough to leave his bed to watch the children play. Love spread and mended him, body, mind, and soul. For the first time in an extremely long time, on those lips, was a smile Pegasus had once thought lost…or unattainable.

He listened as Seto made plans and promises to accept the two children into his family. He watched as Seto’s incredible heart opened to encompass these two orphans, to give them shelter and support. He watched as the two children finally found a home. A home with real safety and a real family.

The days grew into weeks and Pegasus watched as Mokuba took up his position as their older brother. He watched the boy as he transformed into their protector, becoming the big bother he had seen Seto be for him. Pegasus realized that he had feared that Mokuba would be a boy who could have easily rejected the intrusion upon his home and family. Instead, he had shown himself to be a person who happily accepted them and opened his young heart to them. Pegasus saw, in every hug, in every smile, in every kiss goodnight, the love that Mokuba had received from Seto being extended to Anzu and Yuugi.

Weeks evolved into months and Pegasus watched as the newest members of the family received new clothes, new names, new identities, and new lives. Yuugi and Anzu Kaiba, brought into the Kaiba family as if it was always meant to be.

He listened as they laughed.

He watched as they smiled.

He felt a dull ache in his chest. For, he saw something in their eyes. Saw in theglimpses he dared to take into their minds the truth which was concealed behind those cheery faces. 

He saw that they still walked in lands of dreams and fantasy.

 

_This is not how one should live… But…If they truly awaken…?_

Pegasus stared at a picture frame in his hand. It was a photo of all three children. Just a happy photo of three children sitting in their home’s garden, having a tea party. Three children at a table, with stuffed animals and treats. All smiling at the camera, for a brief moment before they continued their game.

No one else seemed to see the cloud over Yuugi and Anzu’s eyes. This seemed to be a burden for Pegasus alone. He knew what the Traveller had seen. He knew what the Painter had done. He knew what no one else could.

Everyone saw two happy children who had managed, by some miracle, to leave behind the darkness of their early lives. Everyone, who knew what bits of their story could be shared, quietly cheered for these strong children who were living a best case scenario. They marveled at their resilience. They thanked some divine being who must have intervened.

Pegasus knew better. He knew that there had been no wise divine being. He knew what he had done to them…For them…? He knew that they had not overcome anything. Their eyes had simply been covered with a veil. For them the world was a soft and colorful thing. They were not truly seeing what was before them. The hard edges of the real world were too much for them.

He stared into the eyes in the photograph. He thought about how a person could exist in full, when they could not see the world. They could not truly be themselves in this state. Their true selves were frightened and battered victims.

He thought of the screams. The cries. The blood. How could he ever think to make them live with their reality? He had made a decision and it was the best option for them. It was far better to see the world as a dream and be able to smile, than to see it for all of its harsh reality and forever cry.

He knew it was within his power to tear away that veil. It was possible for the Traveller to go once more and explore their minds. He could try to bring light to their darkness, instead of walling it off. Pegasus could always go back… but he had never gone back. The Traveller had not dared to venture back into those minds. He knew about the ocean of black in Yuugi’s mind. He knew about the dark red mists in Anzu’s mind. He had experienced that horror and uncertainty of their minds and he could not do it- nor could he condemn them to it.

In the lonely and dark moments, when he was sure he was all alone, Pegasus admitted the truth to himself. He was as much afraid of what would happen to those children if he did return to their minds, as he was of what might happen to himself in those minds. He feared what would happen if he removed the barrier but he also feared what would happen to him if he travelled the dark minds again. He knew that the bloody mists of Anzu’s wind would roll over him and threaten to swallow him up. He knew that the black ocean of Yuugi’s mind would try to drag him under and drown him. He knew that one misstep and Yuugi would be screaming and tearing at himself as Anzu begged and pleaded with him to cease his self destruction.

_I gave them something they couldn’t have had otherwise. It may not be perfect but-_

The telephone rang. Pegasus' eye fell on it. Something whispered to him of castles in the sand as the tide rolled in.

Dread began to rise within him.

+…+

A town car rolled up the drive and Pegasus tried not to fidget or worry as he concentrated.he had hurried over to Seto’s house to make sure he met them when they arrived. He stood and focused on the three children. His mind reached out to them.

_Sleep…_

The car stopped and he opened the rear passenger side door.

Slumped, sideways, Anzu was holding onto Yuugi. Both were sleeping. Pegasus' eye glanced at Mokuba, who was also asleep. Pegasus made an effort not to show his relief. Seto was already getting out of the other side of the back seat.

“I think you may have over done it.” Seto said as he bent down to begin unbuckling Mokuba. “Why put Mokuba or Yuugi to sleep, as well?” He looked at Pegasus across the row of sleeping children.

“No, I think it might be a bit odd if only Anzu fell asleep.” Pegasus forced a smile at Seto as they began unfastening safety belts. “Besides, children can always use a nap or two during their busy days.” Seto made some sort of snorting noise and the two carefully took the children out of the car. Mokuba and Yuugi slumbered in Seto’s arms and Pegasus took Anzu.

“I’ll go tuck these two into bed, you can use my office.”

“No, no, it’s all alright, she can go to bed, too. She’ll be fine by tomorrow morning, don’t worry.” Pegasus was already walking towards the house. He hoped that Seto could not read the truth through his back. He hoped that Seto could not see through his words. Hoped he couldn’t see his uncertainty. Just as they had accepted that the children were ‘fixed,’ it had seemed that Bakura and Seto had accepted that Pegasus had everything well in hand.

They didn’t ask him questions. They simply accepted, without seeking for reassurances, that Pegasus was some great manipulator of minds. He felt their faith in him. It had lifted him up in the beginning. He was not as strong as Seto. He was not a great nurturer like Bakura. This had been his contribution. They expected that it was his special skill, honed and perfected.

Their faith in him had made him happy but… This was all unexplored territory for him. He had never done anything this extensive before. He had not dealt with such damaged minds before. He was dancing on a thin sheet of ice, but he felt Seto and Bakura’s eyes on him. They were impressed with his grace, mistaking his calm for expertise.

 

Pegasus laid the girl in bed next to her brother.

_There’s a crack in her dream…_

 

+…+

The Painter stood in a valley between two gently rolling hills. He turned his head to inspect his surroundings. Then he looked up at the top of one hill. He squinted and then scowled.

 

A jagged tear in his perfect masterpiece. A crack with delicate edges ready to give way under any indelicate touch.

 

The Painter stood before the abomination and looked at the swirling miasma of red beginning to curl in through the breach. He lifted his paintbrush from his pocket once more and began the careful work of setting his work to right. This was just a little crack… a crack about half his height and a third his width. Fixing this was child’s play. It was nothing compared to the feat of creating the refuge.

The Painter fixed the fissure. Expert lines and artistic flourishes. He filled the crack and painted a lovely willow over it.

He sat down on the soft grass and watched as the paint dried. The leave changed from light green to darker hues.

The Painter ignored any hints of nagging doubts. He would not give in to the idea that his work could not last for a thousand years. His work was flawless. A simple touch-up was all that was needed. Just a bit of work here or there. The Painter reminded himself that every great work needed a little care from time to time. This was nothing more than a quick touch up. His work might need one or two more but it would hold.

_It had to hold._

Despite his faith, he still made the journey to inspect every crevice of the space.

 

+…+

Pegasus dragged himself outside, into the garden. The night air was cool on his skin. He ventured as was far as he could in the garden and laid down on a lounge chair. He stared up at the dark sky. The staff had all left for the day and the children were sound asleep. Bakura was pacing about in his room. Seto was in his office.

Pegasus needed to be far away from all of them. He needed to be where their thoughts were only whispers. He needed to be far away from them for a while. However, he couldn’t leave altogether.

He stared up at the stars. He didn’t care to think of how long he had been at his work. Here, alone, he could allow himself to be truthful. There had not been just a single break in the girl’s dream. There had been several holes and, more than that, there had had been weak spots. Thin panes of glass just waiting for an errant pebble to break them. Just the tiniest bit of stress.

He felt his muscles relax as the breeze rustled the leaves about him. He might have to stay close to Anzu and Yuugi. He might have to give up his plans to go home and only visit from time to time. This problem might need a more constant maintenance.

A petal drifted from a flower and Pegasus wondered why he had not thought to adopt the two children himself.

~

For nearly every child in this world, there is an adult who wishes that they could give them something more perfect. With rounded corners. With soft edges. With bright colors. Panicking when truth threatens the paradise they so desperately sought to create.


	8. The Fragility of Hope

In the light of day, we behold rich colors and full shapes. All laid bare for our enjoyment. Uncovered, freed from the veil of night.

However, where there is light there is also shadow. Sometimes those shadows care little for being banished. They stare at those who look so intently at the beauty illuminated by the day, ready to pounce and cover the beauty and the beholder alike.

~

Giggles and the pitter patter of little feet filled Pegasus' ears as he sat at the breakfast table and waited for the children. Seto sat at the table, reading a newspaper. Pegasus absently worried at a piece of toast. He wished that he could be as sure in his abilities, as Seto was.

The footsteps came down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Pegasus looked up. He fixed his eye on the doorway. He watched as Mokuba ran in. A smile so at home on his face. He watched as Yuugi came in, a familiar smile on his face but still slightly unsettling. Then, Anzu came in. Pegasus stared at her. He tried to see some devastating sign that her dream had broken again.

Her eyes lock onto his and for a terrible moment he saw something swim in her eyes. She blinked and it was gone. He watched as she carefully helped her brother, Yuugi, get into a chair. It wasn’t until the children were being served breakfast, that Pegasus realized that he had been smiling the entire time. He thought about it and reasoned that it was just a response to Anzu’s repaired dream. But as his eye fell down to the piece of toast he had broken into crumbs, he realized that he had been smiling as soon as they had began to walk into the room.

Some kind of thoughtless reaction. Some kind of dumb reaction to the presence of children.

 

Pegasus stood in the doorway and watched as Seto and the children left.

“Do you think they will ever be able to wake up, Max?” Bakura’s soft voice came from Pegasus' side but his question fell upon Pegasus' shoulders like a marble slab. The weight of the question pushed down on his mind.

“Should they ever _have_ to deal with the horrible truth of their world?” Pegasus stared after the receding vehicle. He wanted so desperately, to reach out to those little mind. He wanted to find some way to enhance their beautiful visions.

“ _Hiding from the truth is not living_. It is just existing in a prison you tell yourself is prettier than the world where truth exists.”

Each word fell on Pegasus like a stone tossed into a pond. He heard the strange tone of Bakura’s voice.

He turned to look at Bakura, but the other man had already disappeared inside.

+…+

It wasn’t altogether right but Pegasus spent the day holed up in Seto’s home office. His fears kept him from going home and he couldn’t bear to be anywhere else in the house while he waited for the children to return home.

Those first tears. Those first breaks in the dream. He wondered if they would be like the first cracks in a pane of glass. Would they run, setting off a chain of cracks which would bring everything crumbling down. He worried that his facade was not strong enough.

His mind wandered to the future.

Something would come to peck at the dream again. Something else would pick at it. Something would make fresh cracks for him to heal.

_To heal…_

What could he do if Anzu’s mind was too broken to accept the dream? What if it was _her mind_ was what was pecking… _from the inside_ …? Could he save her from her own mind?

_Should I…?_

Pegasus thought about the little boy, sitting in the dark. Waiting for a champion. Praying for a hero.

He thought of the older boy, staring into the darkness as blood and pus poured down his face. Hoping for an end to all the pain. Waiting for someone to save him.

He could be that hero for Anzu. He could wield his paintbrush, brandish it at the darkness which threatened to break into her peace. He could be her champion. Even if it meant that he spent the rest of her life, fixing and reenforcing that barricade. Time meant nothing for him but it still held power over her.

Was she meant to spend her life in agony and shadows? No. She was just a little girl. Just a child. Just a poor victim. She could not protect herself but he had that power. He had the ability to fight the darkness for her. He wouldn’t allow Yami to continue to torture her with her memories.

A business empire was a legacy the world could see but meaning did not have to come from the _number_ of people who acknowledged your work.

He could do so much more as her protector. Watching over a single life was a worthwhile way to spend one’s life. He could easily give up his home and his company. Move into Seto’s home and spend as many years as she had, making sure that she did not suffer.

 

A little boy, holding a raw thumping heart in his hand, whispered that Pegasus could be the champion for her that Seto couldn’t have been. Its whisper held none of the malice it once had. He understood that Seto had been just a child. However, Pegasus was a man. He could make her that promise. He could also fulfill it.

A fingertip brushed his cheek and Pegasus found his hand at its reflexive work, tracing and retracing the curves and ridges of the golden eye.

Something fluttered in his mind. A tiny hopeful butterfly spread its wings.

This was what this accursed object could do. It did not have to be a wicked burden. It did not have to be a dead thing corrupting him. It could be a tool for good. He had lost some of his sight, but he had gained a way to help others- _to help her._

_I can use this evil thing to create a bright life for her._

Redemption and purpose filled Pegasus. The butterfly multiplied and Pegasus felt a warmth. Butterflies rose up and the darkness of doubt and self reproach cowered where they flew.

 

A knock at the door drew Pegasus away from his thoughts.

“Max… There’s been an incident at the school…”

Something dark swallowed up a butterfly.

 

+…+

Pegasus followed a nervous looking teacher through the halls of the schools. The woman was telling him about the incident. Her words stabbed at Pegasus.

“They had to pull her off of the boy.”

_Can I save her…?_

“I- we- they…she looked as if she might ki- hurt him.” The woman was shaking and her fear rolled off of her in waves. She tried to choose her words carefully but her fear made them stumble. She tried not to believe that a sweet little girl, the one in the pink dress who had begun school a few days ago, could be capable of the savagery she had exhibited. The image of the sweet girl was crumbling in their eyes.

_Kill…she might kill another child…?_ Sickness rolled through Pegasus as his legs moved automatically. Was there anything left of Anzu to save? Was she too far gone? Would she become a monster like Yami? Could she _ever_ have that happy life he was so desperate to fight to secure for her?

“Mr. Pegasus…” The teacher had stopped in front of a closed door. “I don’t know what’s happened to Anzu but…”

Pegasus' left hand ached with the effort it took not to reach up and worry at the golden eye. “I will take her home-”

“We all know that she has been through an ordeal…but…”

Pegasus nodded and straightened up. “Don’t worry, we all know that Anzu is a sweet girl at her core, she’s just having trouble adjusting to this new life.” The words were as much to reassure the teacher as they were to reassure himself. This was all just a large change for her. He could adjust the dream. He could just adjust it and then she would adjust better to this life. She stillcould have that happy life.

_She can be a normal child. She can have a childhood. Yami will not steal that from her completely._

Worry still clung to the woman’s features but she nodded. She turned and opened the door. She stepped inside and Pegasus waited in the hallway. He focused on calming his nerves. He would try to speak to her. He would calm her and then he would begin to fix whatever new cracks had-

“NO! WHERE IS YUUGI!?” Anzu’s voice cut through the air and Pegasus tensed. He watched the teacher tense. He heard a chair move. He peered around the teacher and he didn’t see Anzu.

The soft girl was gone. A fiery monster stood in her place. Visions of the broken dream began to rise up but Pegasus pushed them down and took a step into the doorway.

“Anzu…”

The monster’s eyes turned on him. He saw her take another deep breath to yell.

_Sleep, sweet child…_

Anzu’s eyes squinted as she fought sleep. Her foot rose and she took a wobbling step forward.

“I HAVE-”

_Relax…rest…_

Anzu yawned.

“to find…”

_Sleep…_

_“_ Yuugi…”

She stumbled sideways and Pegasus smoothly moved around the stunned teacher to catch her before she fell. He looked down at her sleeping face. The monster was gone. A sleeping child was in his arms. A child who was trying to live in a broken dream.

Pegasus gathered the girl up and stood. He walked out of the room, not daring to look at the teachers or the other child. He had to get her home.

He had to save her.

~

Love and Hope make fools of all of us. They make us dream of possibilities which may not be possible. They tenderly sow seeds. They carefully cultivate. They show us a garden of happy things we may, or may not, ever truly attain. Unfortunately, they are not the only gardeners.

Regret also walks the rows. Touching and twisting those beautiful flowers. Making us desperatel to hold them. Heedless of the thorns and brambles, we reach and grab at those possibilities. We wrap our fingers and palms around them and clutch them to our breast. Bleeding and hurt we desperately cling to these happy things we are so sure we can have.


	9. Surrender in the Red Mist

Hope and reassurances give a man strength to walk in darkness. He hopes that he will make it through to the other side. He hopes that the even though all seems dark now, he will not always wander in darkness.

~

The car purred and gently rocked. Two boys whispered to each other and played at make believe. A little girl slumbered. A man stared out the window at the moving scenes.

Pegasus was only dimly aware of the motion of his hand, stroking Anzu’s sleeping head. Working, reflexively, his hand tried not to reach up to his face. He tried not to let his thoughts swallow him up. They wrapped themselves around his mind and fought to permeate every fiber of him.

He had made the mistake of taking a glimpse into Anzu’s mind.

+…+

The Traveller had stood atop a lone hill. His eye had searched desperately for some hope to cling to. But standing on that lone hill as red mists swirled and rose, all he could see were the last crumbling bits of the dream. They hung in jagged remnants and tattered shreds. The dream had been all but destroyed.

There were sweet fluffy creatures wandering through a red mist and darkness. The Traveller watched as they were digested. Fluff slowly broken down, then flesh, then muscles. Until there was a skeleton which also succumbed, falling to dust, unseen in the mist.

The Traveller’s heart ached. The Painter refused to be coaxed forward, too distraught by the destruction to his masterpiece. He saw the landscape being changed. Being ravaged. His feet rooted to the spot. Mist rolled around his feet but he didn’t look down at it. It slithered up to his knees. His eye was riveted to something… both glorious and horrible.

A warrior stood in a valley. Her hair did not flow in a beautiful breeze. It clung to her head. Blood dripped from it, plastering her hair to her head. Clinging to her armor. Coating her shield and sword. She stood, ready for something. Waiting for some enemy to make itself known.

The Traveller watched as this warrior looked around. Her face turned in his direction andhe tensed but she looked through him. The Traveller saw the features of the girl… Anzu. Blood and dirt had a firm hold on her face. A sword was held ready to hack and slash, to rend asunder, any threat. Her shield was raised, ready to protect her, if only to allow her to make another killing blow. Her determined expression spoke of the years of grim determination. Her stance spoke to a lifetime of fighting.

The Traveller looked around the red tinted world. This was not the world the Painter had created. This was not a sweet thing. This was a cruelly warped reality. The warrior’s head turned to look at some swirl of the mists. Every muscle ready for some hideous thing to jump out at her. She was not a gentle child who could simply be placed in a peaceful world. She would not submit to being told to just accept that the world was now gentle and safe.

She was a warrior. Hardened by battle. Scarred by the world. Her eyes could not be closed.

He had made a _terrible_ miscalculation. A _deadly_ miscalculation. He had sought to tear something from her which she was not ready, willing, or able to let go of. This was a fundamental thing he had tried to take from her. The Painter had sought to make something nice but in his arrogance, he had not thought about the canvas- about the person. He had not thought about whether his selfishly conceived fantasy would be desired or appreciated.

+…+

Pegasus sat beside the sleeping Anzu and tried to focus on the quiet of the room. He pulled his consciousness back from the happy dreams of the two boys and the worries of Seto and Bakura. He blocked them out and tried to focus on only himself and the girl. But wasn’t alone. The room was quiet and still but inside his head was the howling gale of his own thoughts.

_She was a warrior… always would be... I just didn’t want to see it._

He had been foolish… once again. He had been blinded by his hopes. By his _own_ hopes.

Even outside of her mind, Pegasus saw the warrior, poised and ready for a fresh attack. He saw, laid over her sleeping face, the blood and filth covered grim face of the fighter who was ever ready for the horrors she knew, all too well, to be in the world.

 

The door opened and Seto walked in. He looked at Anzu, sleeping on the couch. His eyes flicked to Pegasus, for a moment, and then back to the girl.

“I heard…”

Neither man wanted to say it. Neither wanted to acknowledge the savagery that this girl had shown herself to be capable of.

Pegasus knew that Seto was in the room, closing the door behind himself. He didn’t look at him, his focus was on Anzu. He racked his brain, trying to think of how he could fix this all. How he could make everything rosy and sweet for her. How he could make everything happy. How he could make everything _normal_ …

The boy with the thumping raw heart whispered in Pegasus as Seto walked closer. His hand came to rest on Pegasus' shoulder.

“You have done so much for them.”

_It’s not enough…_

“I know you did a lot.”

_You tried…_

“So…what will you try next?”

_You will need to make another dream. And another. You are running up a wet hill. You are trying to be her champion. You are trying to do what Seto couldn’t._

“Maybe she should stay out of school for a year while you work with her.” Seto’s words were so reasonable. They were so solid. So logical.

The heart thumped and Pegasus felt Seto’s hand on his shoulder. His mind filled with a deluge of doubts and questions. He wanted so desperately to be the master of minds that Seto thought him to be. He wanted so badly to be the holy champion that he had dreamed of in his darkest moments. He wanted, with every ounce of his being, to make everything perfect.

_A champion… We all want a champion. Someone to illuminate the darkness. Someone to fight for us. Someone to save us._

“I can’t…” Pegasus felt it all weighing on him. He felt Seto’s hand like a two ton boulder on his shoulder. He felt all of his unspoken promises to save the girl. He felt the heavy words of Bakura, ‘ _Hiding from the truth is not living_.’

“I can’t keep doing this! She’s not responding to this treatment. She’s a fighter. I apologize, Seto. If I keep trying to do this she will lash out worse and worse. I’ll have to change the way that I treat her. Yuugi wanted to forget. He accepted the changes.” The words tumbled out of Pegasus' lips and as they hit the air, he heard them.

They were a truth that he had not wanted to acknowledge. They were a terrible honesty that he had not allowed into his heart. He was trying to quell a hurricane. He was trying to smother a righteous fire, which had fought for so long for a valiant purpose. He was powerless in the face of it all. He was powerless in the mind of Anzu.

Seto sighed, heavily, “Yes, I can see that. But what do you suggest? I don’t like to see her suffering but these outburst are getting worse.”

Pegasus felt his tongue and lips move, without his bidding, “I don’t know but the teacher said she looked like she was going to _kill_ that boy.”

Another terrible truth came from his lips.

A sad silence settled over them.

More truth blossomed from Pegasus' lips, “Anzu, needs something different than Yuugi. She doesn’t want to let go. She’s never going to let of the darkness go.” Pegasus listened to his words, the situation seemed to float further and further away from his grasp. “If we don’t address this soon, she’ll end up snapping and killing someone.” It all seemed to fall deeper and deeper towards darkness. “And then, it will be too late-”

Seto’s hand shook on his shoulder and his words wavered, uncharacteristically unsure of themselves, “I know. I know… I just…How do you get her to accept her monster but not use it? What can you do for her?”

Suddenly, like a match struck in the dark, Pegasus saw that he was not alone in his fears. He was not alone in his convictions and uncertainties. He did not have all of the answers and Seto did not either. Seto was not asking him to have all of the answers.

More importantly… _Most_ importantly, Pegasus saw the thread between Seto and Anzu.

Pegasus sought to be a champion _for_ Anzu, but she was not a sad little waif waiting to be saved. She was the brave child, promising her sword and shield. She was the strong child, whispering in the darkness, promises of heroic deeds. She was not Max. She was Seto.

The revelation hit Pegasus and he could not help but chuckle. “I wouldn’t know. Seto, you’re the one who accepted his monster. You’re better equipped for this than I am. I can only give her sweet dreams.”

Pegasus was so preoccupied with trying to be Seto that he had not seen that he couldn’t be Seto. He was so focused on being the hero that he didn’t realize that he was dealing with a little hero. He was trying to subdue a person who had fought, all of her life, against people trying to subdue and smother her.

Pegasus stood up, Seto’s hand fell from his shoulder. “Tomorrow is the weekend. I suggest you start working with her.”

He took a step towards Anzu.

_Relax…Sleep…Rest…_

The girl’s breathing deepened and Pegasus turned back to Seto. A thin smile spread itself across his lips.

“Seto… Neither of us- None of us, have all of the answers. But I think,” He looked at Seto’s eyes, focused on the sleeping girl. “I think that you have more of the answers than you think you do.”

Seto looked up at him and his brow wrinkled. His icy blue eyes looked at him and his mouth started to open to ask a question.

Pegasus' smile spread and he shook his head. “You have managed to do great things. Have faith that you have more great deeds still in you.”

Pegasus turned away and walked out of the room. He glanced over his shoulder, for a moment and saw Seto pulling the chair closer to the couch. He smiled and closed the door.

Pegasus finally acknowledged that there were fights that he could not have _for_ other people. He finally realized that he could not be a hero for this girl. For, she was a champion, all her own.

He leaned against the closed door. Weariness was beginning to settle upon him.

“I think it may be time for _all_ of us to wake up, Max.” Bakura stood beside Pegasus and his hand touched his arm. “You each have a sweet and battered heart.” Bakura reached up and touched Pegasus' cheek. His cool fingers slid up and gently moved aside the curtain of silver hair. “We all bear scars and I think that that boy also has the same sweet and brutalized heart that you posses.” His thumb traced a silver brow and his palm rested on Pegasus' cheek. “You have not lost a fight. You simply have to choose a different battle.”

Bakura’s face was full of understanding and sorrow. His eyes shifted from the golden eye to Pegasus real eye and he smiled. “We all have strengths. And in this world there is always someone who need this help you offer, just as there are those who have little need of it.” His hand gently replaced the curtain of hair and came to rest on Pegasus' shoulder. “Do not lose your hope. Do not lose your heart. Use both to help mend a heart which has lost all hope.”

Pegasus listened to the words and felt the touch. His eye looked away. It looked towards the stairs. It looked in the direction of the bedroom where Yuugi lay, wrapped safely in his dreams. 

His lips parted, “Thank you, Bakura.”

Bakura smiled and Pegasus straightened himself. Pegasus moved away from the door and Bakura went inside.

+…+

For a moment, the Painter stood in a roiling mist. Everything had been completely destroyed. A deep sorrow cut into his heart but he allowed himself to accept truth. He knew that this was what had to be.

_The dream has ended. Long live Anzu._

~

Some battles are chosen. We see an injustice, a hurt, a wrong which needs to be made right. Some battles choose us. A wrong which knows that we know best how to make it right. A broken heart calls out to us. An injustice which calls to something in our past which shaped us. It is a truth which we may try to ignore. A truth which we may try to fight against. However, in the end, we often find our fight is for naught. The battle knows that the call will be too strong and we will answer it.

A man laid down his weapons on a battlefield. A Painter laid down a brush before a canvas which would not yield to his design. Both turned their eye to the insidious fight, the canvas which took too quickly to the design. Both readied themselves for a fight which they had thought they had already won.


	10. Destruction by a Caring Hand

In the darkness of night we sometimes find light. The moon above, shining down upon the landscape of our mind. It illuminates the dark corners and gives us a gentle way to confront our fears. It does not burn and scorch like the sun. it does not drive away the shadows. Instead it allows us to stand face to face with those shadows. We can stare into the darkness as it stares back at us.

As a father helps to illuminate the darkness in his daughter’s heart and mind, an uncle steps into the darkness of his nephew. To bring in a light so long denied.

~

It had been several nights but finally Pegasus had gathered up enough courage to go forth and do what he must. Finally he had devised a plan. Finally he had dampened enough of his doubts.

Seto closed the bathroom door behind himself. Pegasus had watched as he had left the bedroom with the sleepy bundle in his arms. His eye had followed as they had crossed the hall. He studied his shaking hand and began walking as the bathroom door was carefully closed.

 

Pegasus opened the bedroom door and slipped inside. He looked at the lone sleeping form in the bed and he steeled himself. He had work to do. Important work. Seto had begun his work and now Pegasus had to begin his own.

+…+

The Traveller looked at a lush landscape. This was a canvas which had not only accepted the work of the Painter but enriched it. Colors had changed since he had last been there. They had become more saturated. They had become more… real. Everything was deeper and more full. This was not what the Painter had created, this was something more beautiful and beloved. 

The Traveller took an experimental step forward. The ground was solid beneath him. The insidious path was no longer there. There was no terrible blackness waiting to swallow him up. That darkness had no place here. That insecurity was not allowed to exist.

A soft sun hung in the sky, illuminating everything. Vibrant green grass grew across the ground. Sweet flowers dotted the land. Soft and fluffy creatures roamed about. Gentle breezes danced.

The boy had taken what he had been given and he had grown it further. He had poured his hopes and dreams into it. He had made a paradise for himself.

Now the Traveller had arrived to pick at that beauty.

The Traveller felt a sickening guilt rise up. He walked through the beautiful land, steeped in so much serenity, and he looked for the boy. His eye searched, even as his sickened heart cried out for him to turn back. He was looking to bring pain back to this mind. His was a dirty business. 

As detestable as it was, he could not abandon it. If the Traveller could accomplish his task, the boy could begin to allow himself to see reality.

_To take from him the only happiness he has ever known…_

The Traveller shook his head. No. He was not there to _take_ from the boy. He was there to _give_. He was there to give the boy some truth.

He was there to give the boy reality-

“Hello.”

The Traveller jumped at the soft sound of the greeting. He turned quickly and saw a boy standing in the grass. He held a soft little bunny in his arms and he was stroking it while looking up at the Traveller.

“Hello. Who are you? You’re not some new animal, are you?” the boy’s words felt like silk to the Traveller’s ears. They spoke of a gentleness, of a calm, that might be forever torn from him.

“Hello…ah yes, you are correct. I am not an animal.”

“Who are you?”

The Traveller tried to search for the appropriate title to give himself.

“Are you a friend?”

“Yes… Yes, I am a friend.”

A smile spread across the boy’s face, “Oh, good! A new friend!”

The Traveller marveled at how ready and willing the boy was to accept a new friend, even a stranger.

“Do you have many friends here?”

The boy looked down at his bunny rabbit, “Yes, I have many animal friends!”

The Traveller felt himself smile.

“I was just about to have a tea party with my friends, do you want to come?”

The Traveller nodded.

The boy walked closer and took the Traveller’s hand. He turned and pulled the Traveller gently, presumably in the direction of the party. The Traveller followed. He allowed the little hand in his gently guide him. He looked down to the boy’s footsteps. Every step the boy took was marked with a patch of flowers, which began to grow as the boy lifted his foot from the ground. Life and love flowed from the boy, bringing even more new life into this beautiful world.

_A world, you seek to destroy…_

The Traveller shook his head. The boy stopped and turned to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

The Traveller debated for a moment, he looked at the bunny, then he looked at the horizon. He steeled himself, once more. “Yuugi…” The boy shivered for the briefest of moments, “do you… like this world?”

The boy smiled, “Of course! I love it! I have pretty flowers and lots of friends!”

“What…what if this world was not…real?”

The boy shivered for a moment. “Nuh-uh. This is a perfect world and it is totally real.”

The Traveller felt as though a hand had taken a hold of his heart. As if someone had reached into his chest to begin to squeeze the pitiful and dead thing. “Yes. It _is_ very beautiful. Maybe a little _too_ beautiful?”

The boy frowned, “How can it be _too_ beautiful?”

“I don’t know…” The Traveller struggled to find the words. “What if maybe there are too many flowers?”

“Too many flowers?”

The Traveller felt the boy’s hand in his. He looked at his large purple eyes. “Tell me, what do you see when you look around?”

The boy looked at the Traveller strangely and then smiled. He looked out at the graceful landscape, at the gentle world around him. “I see a beautiful world where everyone is my friend. Where everyone loves me. Where there is no hurt. There is no darkness.” The boy’s eyes lost some of their focus, they seemed to be looking past of the green grass, the bright flowers, looking through the herd of unicorns who were quietly grazing. “I see a world where everyone is happy…”

“Why is everyone happy?”

“…because they don’t hurt…” A whisper of sadness had crept into the boy’s words.

“Yuugi…what do you want most in the world?” The Traveller felt the boy’s shiver at the mention of his name.

“I want this.”

_Vicious and cruel man. False friend. Here for selfish-_

“You want the grass and the animals. You want all of this brightness.”

The boy turned to him and smiled. He nodded. “I want all of this happiness.”

“But what about Anzu?” The boy looked in the Traveller’s eye. “She isn’t here, is she?”

The boy looked away, down at the rabbit.

“She lives in another world, doesn’t she?” The Traveller felt the boy’s hand tremble as he nodded. “What if the world was a bit different but she was in it?”

Slowly, the boy’s hand slipped out of the Traveller’s. It came to rest of the rabbit and he began to stroke it. “She can’t live here.”

A hand squeezed the Traveller’s heart.

“Yuugi, go on to your tea party. I must go… for now.”

“Will you return…?” The words were soaked in sadness and the boy continued to look at the bunny, his hand still petting it.

“Of course. Now go, you don’t want to keep your guests waiting.”

The boy turned and slowly walked away. There were no other parting words. No smile. His shoulders were drooping. The Traveller’s eye followed him as he walked. There were no flowers in his wake. There was only the grass. There was no joy or love flowing out of him.

Just a lonely boy in a beautiful dream.

 

The Traveller looked at the last footstep which had given life. A red peony swayed gracefully…sadly.

He looked away. His heart was slowly being crushed. This was not like the heart held in the hand of the sad boy. This was not a raw heart thumping, held up for one to see. This was a heart which was-

 

A tree, the Traveller had not paid attention to, suddenly caught his eye. Something about it did not fit. He took a step towards it. He looked at it closely. He saw something in it. Something dreadful.

He tried to turn away from it but his feet kept taking him closer. Closer.

He stood before it and gazed into its hollow. A cleft in its trunk held a familiar color. He looked into the hollow and recognized the red…

His hand, unbidden reached towards it.

The Traveller glanced down at his hand a second too late.

+…+

Pegasus stands in a sitting room. A fireplace warms it and throws light and shadows as its flames undulate. His eye darts around the room, desperate to get his bearings. This is not the bedroom he visited. This is not the throne room.

A naked girl stands in the center of the room. She is looking through him. Her eyes are looking at something, focusing and refocusing. He turns and sees the doorway.

A man stands with a little boy. He leads him closer. Pegasus takes a step out of their way.

 

Bakura hands Anzu a pink shift. She wriggles into it. He lets go of Yuugi’s hand. Pegasus watches as Yuugi tries to retain his grip. Bakura leads Anzu away, taking her away to some darkened corner. Yuugi takes a step to follow but servants surround him. They shuffle him off to a crimson chaise lounge.

Pegasus watches Anzu disappear with Bakura. They seem to be swallowed up by impossible shadows. They have gone where he cannot follow. He turns his attention back to Yuugi. The boy tries to sit absolutely still as the servants begin their work. 

Blonde strands are separated from black. They comb and brush. Pulling and styling. Arranging and expertly adjusting each strand into its new shape.

As their hands work Pegasus stares in horror at the transformation.

 

In the chaos of the night of the fire. After Yuugi’s hair had to be shaved… Pegasus suddenly realizes that it was Bakura who had insisted that the boy’s head must be shaved in order to properly care for his wounds. He had not accepted any explanation against it. No one had understood it, but it had been of the utmost importance that all of Yuugi’s hair be removed. It had seemed a cruel thing to do to the boy, soon after such a trauma like the fire.

They had not understood the real reason.

Bakura had seen it. He had known what it would be for the boy to see that face looking back at himself every day. Pegasus had been so preoccupied but Bakura knew his charges. He knew his children.

 

Yuugi sits on the crimson chair and tries not to fidget as the servants finish their work. He can feel that something is changing about himself.

Strand by strand the boy is removed. Strand by strand he is replaced with Yami.

Pegasus stands rooted to the spot. Everything within him shakes. Shivers of revulsion. Quakes of rage. He wants to grab the boy and smooth down his hair. He wants to grab the boy and tear out his hair. He wants to do anything to remove that monster from the visage of the boy.

Anzu returns to the boy’s side and she tries not to look shocked. She tries not to be horrified. Her little brother… transformed into the monster.

Pegasus turns away from it. This is the true horror the boy cannot face.

He takes a step back.

+…+

The Traveller looked deep into the broken tree.

_This is what you want him to face._

+…+

Pegasus stood over the boy. A smile played over the sleeping face. A smile sat so natural on his lips.

The man reached down and ran a hand over the boys black locks. A few inches long now that they had grown back.

_No. I don’t want to show him that. I want him to wake up and see this._

~

Not all that is covered in light is truth. Where there is light there are shadows. A truth we all must accept before we can truly understand the power of that light.

For every heart mending there is a break which must be confronted. It is a bitter but necessary medicine we must take before we can become healthy. Before we can become whole.


	11. Secrets

How can one fight themselves? This is a question that all of humanity has pondered for most of history. How to defeat the darkness within ourselves. How to embrace the darkness. How to utilize the darkness. How to confront those parts which we cannot rid from ourselves and yet have a hard time carrying.

More illusive, than the answers to those queries, is the answer to: How can one help _another_ to fight the darkness within themselves?

~

The bathroom door closed as Pegasus slipped into the quiet bedroom. He repeated to himself, the plan he had devised. He kneeled down beside the bed and took the sleeper’s small hand in his.

 

+…+

The Traveller looked about the dream. More trees had sprung up. Replacing the bushes and clumps of flowers he had seen the last time he had visited. Each one marking another intrusion upon the dream by foul memories. He frowned and squinted, looking out over the subtly changing landscape.

He bit his lip.

_More cracks. You couldn’t just leave well enough alone… Poor boy…_

The Traveller shook his head and looked at the closest tree. He gathered up the bits of his resolve which were threatening to flee and took several steps towards it. The red seeped from a crack in its trunk, much like the first tree he had seen.

His hand shook but he plunged it into the hole.

+…+

The Traveller pulled himself free and, for a moment, he wavered. He held his trembling hand. The experience had been unpleasant but perhaps it could be useful.

+…+

The Painter examined the tree. He inspected the hole. He looked at the ground beneath it. He sniffed at the intrusion of the tree but he brought forth his brush and began his work.

First, to fix the tree. Then, to set the table for his visit. The Painter worked quickly, ignoring the fears that the boy would reappear before all was ready.

 

“There.” The brush was given a last flick. A red peony fell into a thin vase on the center of the little round table. A soft white table cloth was laid beneath it. A teapot and teacups. Four places were set at the table. All waiting. All ready.

The Painter smoothed the edge of a napkin and glanced at the tree. Bark ran seamlessly across its trunk. It stood, seemingly, whole. His work was flawless but he knew that this would not last. If the Traveller was to be successful it would mean the degradation of his work. His repair of this tree would not be the last time he would have to apply little patches. But he would commit to a life of repairing this masterpiece. If only…

He looked at the world, so filled with love. He would work for his entire lifetime, if he could preserve it.

_Unfortunately, this paradise will not be allowed to stand._

+…+

The Travaller glanced over his shoulder at the table and the tree. He looked at the lone unicorn, grazing quietly, where there had once been a herd.

It was time to invite his host.

“Yuugi?” A shiver went through the air as the Traveller spoke the name.

“Oh, hello, friend!”

The Traveller turned to look at the boy. A fawn followed him this time. A little bird sat on his shoulder. The little rabbit still sat in his arms.

“Hello, Yuugi.” The boy shivered. “Would you like to come to tea with me?”

The boy smiled brightly and nodded emphatically.

 

The gentle breeze made the leaves sway in the tree. The Traveller poured a cup for Yuugi. The fawn wandered off to nibble at some grass while the bird hopped around, investigating the table, and the rabbit continued to sleep in the crook of Yuugi’s arm.

“Thank you for inviting me to tea, friend.” Yuugi smiled at the Traveller from across the table.

“Thank you for agreeing to join me, Yuugi.”

The boy shivered, “Why do you keep calling me that?”

The Traveller frowned, “Call you what? Yuugi? That’s your name, Yuugi.”

_Pushing…_

“Yes!” The boy almost shouted but he bit his lip and looked down into his cup, “…yes…why do you keep calling me that?”

“It’s your name.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Why?”

“It’s too much like…” Yuugi shook his head. “I just don’t like it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. …Is there anything else that you don’t like?”

_Pushing…_

There were a few moments of silence, the fawn quietly picked at the grass, the bird’s tiny claws clicked softly on the tablecloth.

“I don’t like… not having Anzu here.”

“Ah, yes.” The Traveller sipped his tea. “Do you think she could ever come here?”

The boy blew at his tea but his hand didn’t reach for it, he continued to stroke the rabbit. “…I don’t think so…”

“Why?”

“Because she lives… outside…”

“What’s outside?”

A shiver ran through the boy and the world. The boy kept looking down but the Traveller glanced at the tree. He saw a tiny crack in the bark.

“Bad things…”

“Bad people?”

The boy nodded solemnly.

“Is Anzu a bad person?”

The boy lifted his head quickly and shook it, emphatically. “No! Never!”

“She’s a good person?”

“Always! A good person who fights the bad people! She’s so strong!”

The Traveller smiled, “Ah… So she has to stay out there so that she can fight… for you?” He drank his tea but kept his eye on the boy, pretending not to notice the boy’s pursed lips. “That’s ok.” he said as he brought his cup down from his lips. “I understand. You know, I once had someone who was strong. They fought for me.”

“Are they… outside, too?”

“…yes… In a way. But I am also beside them.”

The boy frowned.

The Traveller set down his cup gently and smiled. “May I show you a secret?”

“Show?” The boy leaned forward a fraction.

“Yes.” The Traveller steadied his hand, the one sitting in his lap which he barely trusted to be calm. “I have a secret. It’s something which I do not like so much…” His hand rose, and he touched his right cheek. Carefully, he pulled aside the silver curtain of hair. His eye focused on the boy. It watched his features. He tried not to clench his jaw as he waited to see the boy’s reaction.

The boy stared at the Traveller. His brow wrinkled. “Your eye… Did it hurt?”

The Traveller almost laughed with relief, “Yes. A lot.”

The boy frowned, “Why did you do to it?”

The Traveller’s fingers itched to follow the evil golden ridges and curves as memories threatened to surface. “I didn’t.”

“How-?”

“When I was young.” The Traveller tried to quietly clear the lump from his throat. “When I was young, a bad person… a monster. He stole away my eye. He took it away and put this in its place.”

“Can you see with it?”

The Traveller shook his head and then he stopped, “Well, I cannot see like I can with my other eye- like I used to be able to see. This eye lets me see other things.”

The boy’s hand stroked the rabbit, absentmindedly. “Is that a _good_ thing?”

There was a moment of silence as the Traveller thought. “I have _learned_ that it _can_ be a good thing… But I do, often miss my eye.”

The boy looked away from the eye, he looked down at the table. The Traveller let the hair fall back into place.

“A monster stole your eye.”

“Yes. And I hated him for it. And I hated myself.” The boy shivered. “I hated the eye and I hated the boy I had trusted to fight for me.” The Traveller watched as the boy chewed on his bottom lip. “I couldn’t stand to see my face. I couldn’t stand to feel the thing in my face. For a long time, when I thought of my face and this thing, I thought of that monster.”

The boy’s petting became a bit more rapid. The Traveller heard the faintest crack from the bark of the tree.

“I hated what that monster had done to me. I hated that I had to carry around what he had done to me. I hated that I was not _me_ anymore.”

The boy began to rock back and forth. His hand raked across the rabbit’s fur.

_Impertinently pushing…_

The Traveller stood up and walked around the table. He kneeled down beside the boy and took a hold of his moving hand. He lifted the little hand to his own cheek and placed the tiny fingertips on the golden eye.

“But this isn’t me.”

The boy’s rocking began to slow. He stared at the Traveller’s face. He focused on the golden eye beneath his fingers.

“I am a person who was touched by that monster but I do not _belong_ to that monster.”

The boy’s fingers shifted. They began to feel the curves and ridges.

“I am a person. All my own.” The Traveller let silence settle in between them for a moment. “You are your own person, Yuugi.” The boy’s fingers froze for a moment. “You do not belong to any monster. You are a person. Loved and cared for.”

“…by Anzu…” The boy’s lips moved but his eyes stayed upon the golden eye.

“Yes. And by Bakura. And by Seto. And Mokuba.”

“…and you?”

The Traveller smiled. He gave the little hand a gentle squeeze. “Of course.” He let the little hand sit for a spell, tracing the lines and curves.

“Yuugi…” The name came as a whisper. The Traveller pulled words together. He swallowed his doubts and fears, to make way for the important words. “I know that a monster has touched you.” The boy’s eyes fell but his fingers still worked over the eye. “But you do not belong to the monster.”

The Traveller lifted his hand and settled it on the boy’s cheek. “Your face does not belong to the monster.”

The boy’s eyes screwed up. Hot tears welled up. The Traveller heard the crack of bark. Without looking, he knew that the patch had fallen away.

“Yuugi… can we look at another secret?”

Tears streamed down the boy’s cheeks. He struggled to swallow a sob. Slowly, he nodded.

The Traveller wrapped his arms around the boy and lifted him up. Turning, he looked at the tree. Red was leaking through. Its color an ominous promise of something bitter.

For a moment, the Traveller thought to flee. To take the boy and run. Go to the unicorn. Run to some distant part of the dream where no trees had grown yet.

_But no… you’re set on this path of destruction… dragging this poor child with you._

The boy laid his head on the Traveller’s chest and the Traveller felt the hot tears.

 

Standing before the tree, the Traveller lifted the boy’s hand but he did not place it inside the broken trunk. He reached for the red and then looked down at the boy.

“We are going to touch this and it may sting a bit. However, I know that you are strong. You will handle it.” The Traveller watched the boy as he looked at the red and then back up at him. The boy sniffled and bit his bottom lip.

Slowly, the boy’s shaking hand reached into the tree. The Traveller kept a firm hold on him and reached as well.

~

In the dark recesses of each mind one can find answers to questions we are too scared to ask. These corners may be hidden by curtains of light. They may be forgotten, through sheer force of will, behind some golden hope. However, a peek at this darkness may save us from a world of pain we have been stumbling towards while we were blinded by a dream.


	12. Loving Destruction

Into a painful moment to save oneself from a world of pain. One boy must go, but not alone. 

Never alone.

Never again.

~

The room is warm but there is a sneaky cold which is creeping beneath it. Moonlight trickles in through a window. Dripping around hard bars. It barely illuminates the room. It hardly touches the two small bodies in the bed beneath the window.

Soft sobs are muffled by a blanket.

The boy tenses in Pegasus' arms.

‘No… I don’t want to see this…’

Pegasus holds Yuugi tighter, ‘Then, only listen.’

“Yuugi…ssh…I love you.” A little girl’s voice drifts through the darkness, as she strokes a head, half hidden under the blanket. “You’re here, now. You’re with me. I love you.” The girl’s whispers roll out into the darkness. “You are safe. I love you.”

Pegasus feels Yuugi trembling in his arms.

“We are together. I love you. Sssh…I love you.”

‘She loves you.’

‘…I know…’

“Sleep, Yuugi. I love you.”

“Anzu-” A sob cuts the boy short. “He- he said-” The boy’s words are lost in a torrent of sobs.

‘…he said that I was like him…’

“I love you.”

‘He said…I have his face…’

“Sssh…I love you.”

‘He said… I am his…’

“Never. I love you. Yuugi, you cannot be his. I love you.”

Holding the boy carefully, Pegasus reaches into his heart and begins to draw out the words he hopes will heal. Words he has carefully thought of. Words he hopes can begin to save this boy. Words he hopes will bring hope. ’Yuugi, you do not have his face. You have the only face you could ever have. Yours.’

“Sssh…I love you.”

‘You do not belong to him. You belong to yourself.’

“I love you.”

‘You are so much more than something he could possess. You are so much more than him. You are loved.’

“I love you. Sleep now, Yuugi. I love you.”

‘You are Yuugi. The one and only.’

“I love you.”

‘You are a boy who now lives with his sister. In a loving home.’

“I love you.”

‘…my sister…’

‘Yes.’

“I love you.”

‘…and my brother…”

‘Yes.’

“I love you.”

‘…and Bakura…’

‘Yes.’

“Sssh… I love you.”

‘…and Big Brother…’

‘Yes.’

“I love you.”

‘…and you…Pegasus…’

Pegasus tenses as he feels the raw heart held up once more. ‘Yes. I love you.’

“I love you.”

‘Come now, Yuugi. I think it’s time that we leave these two to sleep.’

+…+

The Traveller carried the boy to a hill and set him down. The fawn, laying down, wrapped its neck around the sleeping child. The bird sang a soft song. The rabbit had vanished.

+…+

Pegasus tried not to wipe his face with his hand. He carefully set the little hand down on the bed. He pulled the blanket up over the boy’s shoulder.

With a gentle hand, Pegasus touched the boy’s forehead. He listened for a few moments, to the boy’s steady breathing. He thought for an instant… maybe just a last peek before he left.

With a heart heavy, with sadness and hope, he pulled his hand away and left the boy to sleep soundly.

 

Pegasus slipped out of the bedroom and he walked quickly down the hallway. He made his way down the stairs. He passed through the house and out into the garden.

Under the pure light of the moon. Under the twinkling of the stars. In the cool air. Pegasus allowed himself to cry. Each red drop held a promise. Each drop held a regret. Each held a fear. Each held a memory.

They flowed out of him. Pouring down his cheek.

+…+

Warm light from the sun came into the kitchen. The morning, the day, it all held such beautiful possibilities. However, for Pegasus there was a coolness to it all. There was a cold and creeping dread which had crawled up his spine to sit on his shoulder. It whispered a million terrible possibilities.

Had he pushed too far? Had he asked too much of Yuugi? Had he upset a world which wasn’t all _that_ bad…? Would Yuugi become that wailing and self hating child he had struggled with? Would this upset Anzu’s progress? What would Mokuba think?

What if his actions had hurt all of the children? Had he sown the seeds of their doom, one and all?

One by one the children came in to breakfast. There were smiles on each of their faces but Pegasus felt a grasping pain in his chest as he saw Yuugi’s face. The wide smile he had come to expect was absent. His face was not open and jubilant. There was a smile but it was tempered.

Pegasus did not need the Traveller to show him, for he saw it, written into every inch of the boy’s face.

The dream had begun to crumble.

The easy joy that the boy had enjoyed was now gone. The boy had not been completely overtaken but he was no longer a smiling dreamer in a paradise. He was a boy. A boy who had been hurt.

_He’s smiling._

Pegasus looked down at the table. Yuugi was smiling. He was not broken…yet… How long could this little smile survive? How long would it be before Yuugi was back to his weeping and self harming? How long-

A hand touched Pegasus' arm. He looked down it. A little hand rested on his arm. His eye followed it down the arm and up to the little face looking up at him.

“Yuugi-?”

A hand came up and rested on the curtain of silver hair.

“I love you.”

For a glorious and amazing moment. For a breath. The world halted.

 

The Traveller saw a boy standing on a hill. Trees dotted the land. Red shone from within each of them.

_But…_

There was still light. There was still soft green grass. There were still flowers. There was still a unicorn roaming. There was still warmth.

 

Pegasus lifted his hand and touched Yuugi’s.

“I love you, too.”

 

The world began to move again as the boy’s smile widened.

~

The end is never _quite_ the end. Oftentimes the end to one story is the beginning of another.

The End marks the end of a particular journey but it can mean the beginning of a new story, a new journey, a new champion.


	13. Epilogue - Child, Transformed

Pegasus sat on a couch reading the newspaper. The children were upstairs. Though “children” wasn’t quite right. They were nearly teenagers and Pegasus constantly had to remind himself of that fact. They were growing up so quickly that it was almost shocking.

Mokuba had long since lost all of his baby teeth. He had solidified himself as the big brother. He defended his two siblings and made sure that they knew that they were undeniably family. Even when they had discovered that Yuugi and Anzu were actually older than him.

Anzu had blossomed into a young woman. She had set aside her warrior-like savagery but she had kept her fire. She used it now to help those around her. She had transformed from the terrifying creature who scared the students and teachers, into the person who was known as everyone’s friend.

Yuugi had become an intelligent young man who’s grades were only matched by his radiant smile. He was gentle, kind, and loving. He had a smile for everyone and a hug for most. He seemed to have left behind all of the darkness.

The three had brought immeasurable joy to everyone around them. They had filled the house with love and light, transforming it into a happy home. Together, they had brought together Seto, Pegasus, and Bakura and made all six of them into a loving and pure family. Pegasus saw it in Seto’s smile, all of the darkness which had haunted him had not been able to continue to torment him in the face of their overwhelming love. He had seen it in Bakura, who had spent these years worrying over his children, now a smile was spread across his face at all times. He felt it within himself, no more did he feel the sad and frantic thump of that raw heart. No more did he see, in himself, that sad boy, always offering up his naked heart. No more did he hear the hissing whispers of his self doubt. These children-

“What is THAT?”

Pegasus' ears perked up as he heard Mokuba’s voice. He smiled and wondered what was going on. The three had long since left behind any of the desperate problems of the darkness which had covered their early lives. Now they were free to have petty little squabbles, like normal children. Normal pre-teens.

Stomping feet raced down the stairs. Pegasus listened as they came closer.

“Uncle Max! Look at what Yuugi did! He’s been in the bathroom for like half the afternoon and then he came out like THIS!”

Pegasus smirked and turned his face from the newspaper.

For a terrible moment. For one horrible and gut shredding moment. The world stopped.

A face with large purple eyes stared at Pegasus. The warmth fled the room. Pegasus felt his chest tighten, like a bear trap suddenly sprung around him.

Yellow, red, and black hair framed the face. A face from nightmares. A face from the dark depths of foul memories.

Pegasus stared into the eyes. Everything in him wanted to flee. Everything in him sat frozen.

 

“Uncle Max…?” Mokuba’s words broke through.

Pegasus blinked and shook his head.

“Oh it’s not THAT bad! You guys are ridiculous!” Yuugi protested, his face flushed with a crimson blush and he pried his hand free of his brother’s.

Pegasus blinked again. “N-no… It’s not bad. It’s just-”

A scream tore through the room and everyone turned to see Bakura, standing in an opposite doorway. He shook so much that he was threatening to topple over. His eyes were wide. His hand spasmodically tried to clutch at his chest, his head, and the doorway.

Pegasus jumped up and ran to him. “Yuugi, it’s a lovely hairstyle! Interesting choice! I have to take care of Bakura, now! Why don’t you two go back upstairs and play a game or something!”

Pegasus half carried and half dragged Bakura out of the living room. He only spared a glance at the shocked boys as he pulled Bakura down a hallway.

“He- he- Ya-Yam-” Bakura stammered as he thrashed against Pegasus' grip. “He- Ya-”

“No. No. Sssh. No, Bakura, Yami is dead. That’s Yuugi.”

“N- NO! He-” Bakura’s wild eyes darted in all directions as bloody tears welled up and fell down his cheeks, unheeded.

“No. No, it’s Yuugi. It’s Yuugi.”

 

Pegasus held Bakura as he babbled and rocked. Seto would be home soon and they would all address the issue then. For now, all he could do was keep Bakura away from Yuugi.

 

_I thought he had forgotten… I was sure that the Traveller and the Painter had sealed up that last tree… It had been the one last kindness they had seen fit to do. The last nighttime excursion into the boy’s mind. It had been so long ago… Their work had been so complete…_

_He became himself. You helped with that. But he also took with him a souvenir from the monster who tried to make him theirs._

_That’s Yuugi Kaiba now, the boy who accepted himself and took something from the monster._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I think that this is the longest story in the series! I hope all of the words have been used well. I hope that I haven’t just been verbose for no reason.
> 
> “Champion, Reflected” was in many ways the most difficult of all the stories to write. The story which I had in mind had a very different focus. So there was a lot of adjusting and readjusting as I watched it come into being. It was originally supposed to only focus on the relationship between Yuugi and Pegasus. I quickly realized, however, that I had not laid out Pegasus' story. Then I had to trek back through Anzu’s story to be able to tell Yuugi’s. This bit was very interesting and a bit difficult because it meant that I had to go back into “Champion, Quieted,” so that I could make sure that the timeline, circumstances, and quotes were all correct.
> 
> I say it at the end of all of the stories, but I keep marveling at it. When I started this project, it was just a rewrite of the original story, “Champion,” but I suddenly found myself with a family and a world crying out for more. I wrote the sequel, “Champion, Another,” and that was supposed to be a one-off addition- which was part of why it was so short. This family and their stories, however, were not done with me. When I started considering the possibility of adding more stories, I went back through the stories in my mind. Thinking of what the stories were about and how they could possibly ever fit together. I honestly thought that I would have a hard time of it- because a series had not been my intention.
> 
> Unexpectedly, I found that I had left myself openings. It was like putting together a puzzle and then flipping it up onto its side and finding that there are holes which allow you to connect another puzzle. Then finishing that puzzle and flipping it up and finding more. Suddenly, I found myself with this big three dimensional structure which I have assembled without entirely meaning to.
> 
> The original story was dark, darker in the ‘Director’s Cut.’ The second was a fairly light story about a day in the life of one of the Kaiba siblings. The third plunged headfirst into darkness and dread. Now at the end of the fourth (and I’m still shocked that this is the FOURTH story) I think we took a medium to dark trip through their lives, with stops in the darkness. I’m hoping that maybe we can get back to the light.
> 
> I realized while writing this, that that is what these stories are actually about. They aren’t about the darkness, the horrors and abuse. They are about the survival and growth after leaving the darkness behind.
> 
> Once again,  
> Thank you for reading!


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